


The Black Book 2

by mosteveryonesmad



Series: The Black Book [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU/Fix-it, Multi, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Sirius Black Raises Harry Potter, more relationship tags to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosteveryonesmad/pseuds/mosteveryonesmad
Summary: The sequel to the Black Book.The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black is still at war. And now their enemy is ready to strike back. Not only will their way of life be threatened, but also the fate of magic itself. It's time for the Blacks to remember all their lessons...and who they were born to be.
Relationships: Andromeda Black Tonks/Ted Tonks, Arcturus Black III/Melania Macmillan Black, Draco Malfoy/Fay Dunbar/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Black Book [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1331195
Comments: 450
Kudos: 1453
Collections: alREADyHPfics: Harry Potter fics that I have read





	1. Prologue

Albania, Summer 1996

Snape regretted some of his life choices. But as a half-blood, at the height of a blood war, he would have said that he hedged his bets quite successfully. But that was before Dumbledore was killed by “Quirrell.” He scowled—he didn’t believe it for a second but it didn’t matter, not really. His “Light” plan, as he referred to it, was over. Only Dumbledore would have been willing to attest to his “loyalty” to the Light—only Dumbledore was powerful enough to convince enough people of that loyalty. And it had worked, for nearly eleven years. 

And with Dumbledore in his corner, he had still kept connections with former Death Eaters, had still kept his “loyalty” to the Dark Lord. They had a plan for the prophecy—Potter would destroy the Dark Lord once and for all—and he had a backup plan, just in case the Dark Lord had another trick up his sleeve. 

Or seven. He shuddered. 

Getting bodily ejected from the castle nearly five years ago had been startlingly but not even more startlingly than seeing Pettigrew there as well. The dumb rat. He should have known something was peculiar about that rat when it survived Percy’s first year—that boy definitely did not care for it at all. Clearly, Pettigrew always knew how to survive.

And then, in between the two of them… Ravenclaw’s Diadem…and what it actually was. He shuddered again. 

It had been a long five years. And now, he was all in. No backup plans. Few escape routes. Not the ideal scenario. But hopefully…hopefully, this potion would work, hopefully, with enough magical sacrifices, the Dark Lord will rise again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The beginning of the sequel! 
> 
> I'm hoping to update every Monday *fingers crossed* 
> 
> Stay safe in these weird times everyone!


	2. Offense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three generations. Three different problems.

September 19, 1996

Harry was beginning to regret his plan. He had thought it would be the best course of action—the perfect mixture of casual, so as not to interrupt Hermione’s focus on school but the appropriate measure of publicity. It _had_ to be public. Grandfather was adamant about it, especially considering that they were two years “late.” Harry didn’t mind too much after all Hermione had turned fifteen in fourth year and he hadn’t until nearly a year later. Hermione had also felt that fifteen was too young and Harry honored that. One of the perks of having an older girlfriend was that she would be turning seventeen in their sixth year. Today, in fact.

He took a deep breath and waited for Nev’s signal outside the Great Hall doors in a small alcove. It was pretty late into breakfast, but he had gotten up earlier than everyone to eat quickly. He had a plan. A good plan. 

Isobel ensured that Hermione was later to breakfast than they normally were so the Great Hall was packed. The right amount of publicity, but also right before the bell to first classes, so they could retreat to class immediately. 

His mirror buzzed in his pocket. Right. 

Harry took a deep breath and walked into the Great Hall as Hedwig swooped down in front of Hermione. Harry wasn’t sure, but as he watched Hermione interact with Hedwig, he heard the buzzing of the Great Hall quiet down. 

Hedwig held out the small, gold package tied to her leg. Harry couldn’t see Hermione’s face, but he saw her untie the package. Isobel was smirking at him from the other side of the table and he fought the urge to glare. Everyone was watching…hopefully, hopefully not. He took another breath and remembered all his lessons. This was the time to be Lord Potter, Duke of Gryffindor. He straightened even further and took the last steps to Hermione as she opened his gift to her. A delicate gold chain that linked seven rubies encased in golden vines. Delicate, but substantial. And old. It took him forever to find the item in the Gryffindor vault but he knew it would be perfect for Hermione. 

“Lady Ravenclaw,” he said roughly. 

She whipped around, her long curls flying over her shoulder and shock written all over her face. But then…a shy smile flitted across her lips.

Oh thank _Merlin_ , Harry thought, fighting against the urge to relax at her subtle approval.

“Would you do me the great honor of accepting my first betrothal gift?” He fought to say that slowly, projecting his voice just a tiny bit.

Hermione flushed prettily, but he knew she was more nervous than she would show. She stood carefully, before picking up the bracelet. 

“Heir Potter, I would be delighted.” She held out her wrist and bracelet. “Help me put it on?”

Harry grinned, ignoring the cheers that erupted around them. He put the bracelet around her left wrist and, because he was still his father’s son, placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. The cheers erupted again, nearly drowning out the sound of the bell, and Hermione’s face was beet red. He laughed and drew her into his arms. 

“Love you,” he said in her ear. 

“Love you too, jerk.” 

“Congratulations Miss Ravenclaw, Mr. Potter,” Headmistress McGonagall called over the commotion, “Now, off to classes everyone! The first bell has already rung.”

Harry grinned into Hermione’s hair before leaning over and shouldering her bag. He held out his arm and escorted her out of a bustling Great Hall. Isobel, Nev, Draco, and Blaise joined them at the door.

“Congratulations!” Isobel threw her arms around both of them, squeezing for just a moment. 

“Thanks, Isobel but,” Hermione narrowed her gaze at her best friend, “something tells me you knew this was happening.” 

Isobel’s eyes widened innocently. “Whatever could you mean my dearest, bestest friend?”

“Ha. And how many times did we have to run back up the tower for a missing book this morning?” Hermione glared. “My arse is sore.”

Harry glanced over her shoulder before smiling innocently at her. “It’s a cute bum though.” 

She pinched his side, blushing. 

“Honestly Potter,” Draco groaned, rolling his eyes, “Hermione I say this as a dear friend to you, but I think you could do better.” 

“Hey!” Harry yelled as everyone laughed, “Thanks, _cousin_.” He turned to Blaise, “Are you sure you want to be with him? Do you see how he treats family?” 

Blaise snorted, lacing his fingers with Draco’s. “Oh yeah, he is a disloyal and cruel man. How have you been friends all these years?”

“Lot of hard work, I can tell you that,” Nev mumbled under his breath—not soft enough though because Draco shoved him lightly in the shoulder.

“Thanks, _cousin_ ,” Draco drawled. 

Harry caught Hermione rolling her eyes at Blaise and Isobel who snickered in response.Clearly, their friends were used to their bickering after five years.

“Hey, Fay!” Isobel called. 

Fay turned but the smile on her face fell slightly at the sight of them. Or, Harry groaned internally, at the sight of Draco and Blaise. 

“Hi Isobel,” she said, her smile turning stiff, “Congratulations Harry, Hermione.” 

“Thanks, Fay,” Hermione said. “How was your summer? I haven’t seen you around since school started.”

Fay maneuvered herself to Hermione’s left side, as far away from Draco and Blaise as possible, Harry noted. He caught Nev’s eye who scratched his cheek with his left pointer finger. He nodded his head a fraction—this was going to get bad. It was bad enough last year with Draco and Blaise circling each other and the will-they won’t-they tension that nearly caused Harry to lock them in a broom closet to figure it out. But if he had to deal with it _again_ with Draco, Blaise, and Fay, he was going to shove them in a broom closet sooner rather than later. 

“It was…okay,” she grinned tightly, “Father wants to set up a betrothal for me soon, but Mum…well she’s muggle-born so she still doesn’t understand why.”

Harry winced sympathetically and joined Nev to carefully shield how ruthlessly cold Draco’s face just went. 

“They didn’t have a contract, did they?” Isobel asked. 

Fay shook her head. “No, but then Mum didn’t have a house to claim at the time either. And I’m the last Dunbar, so Father wants to make sure I have an heir.” 

“That makes sense,” Hermione said, smiling softly, “I’m sure it will work out in the end.” 

Harry bit back a snort. Yeah, it will work out, it will just take him and Nev to shove them in a closet and write out a contact for a litter of Malfoy-Dunbar babies. He frowned suddenly…he wasn’t sure if Blaise had a title in Italy. Right, Malfoy-Dunbar-Zabini babies.

Easy. 

There was a brief, awkward silence before Isobel asked, “So what class do you have first?”

Draco cleared his throat and Nev shifted. “Transfiguration.” He cast a sidelong glance to Fay but she was pointedly looking forward. “I’m hoping we will learn more about the animagus process this year.” 

“Merlin I hope so!” Harry said. “Haven’t you been working on the process, Fay?”

“Yes, with my father.” Fay smiled tightly at him before looking ahead.

He scratched his cheek with left pointer finger and decided that the next broom closet they passed would have to do.

“And where are our wise ol’Ravens off to then?” Blaise asked, his usual flirtatious tone falling a bit flat. 

“Magical ethics,” Hermione grinned. It was one of her favorite classes—and Harry was sure it was partly because it became part of the curriculum because of her and the changes she made as a Hogwarts heir. 

Harry, however, groaned and Nev and Draco winced sympathetically for him.

“Last year with the Doge twins Harry,” Nev said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. “You can do it.” 

“And the first class where you have rights as her betrothed,” Draco whispered, careful not to let Hermione hear. 

Harry grinned widely at that, suddenly remembering that he did just gain certain privileges as Hermione’s betrothed. The first of which was to shield her from the objectionable attention of a slimy, no-good, son of a—

“Harry, what on the green Goddess’s earth has you grinning like that?” Hermione asked.

He placed a quick peck on her head and practically sang, “Nothing dear!”

Hermione shared a look with Isobel and Fay that Harry chose to ignore. Today was going to be a very good day. And nothing was going to get him down.

///

Sirius took a moment to ground himself, shifting over the cushioning charm for the most comfortable position. He had gone out to the ritual circle to mediate, as was his practice for the last few years, but it was later in the morning than he liked. For early September, the sun still shone hot; he cast a cooling charm and refocused.

He took a deep breath and let his mind flow.

The twins were teething. Rose was debating going back to work. He wondered if she would continue with private animal exploration and study. Carina, his little star, was quite vicious with the family wand they let her practice with. Leo nearly tore down the manor the other day. 

He took another breath as the thoughts slid through his mind. 

He knew he would be free for an hour of mediation. It had been easier and easier to fall into the practice. The first time he felt the entire hour was spent filtering through the random thoughts in his head.

He took a deep breath and slowly released it. 

His mind followed a familiar path. A shaded, dirt-packed trail down a mountain to the river Styx. With each step he took, he breathed a slow, deep breath. By the time he was down to the river, the outside world had faded and he no longer needed to focus on his breath to maintain his presence in the Underworld. 

The river was deceptively gentle and smooth but he knew better than to cross without help. He had never crossed the river—he wondered if he was meant to now.

A boat appeared to his left and he approached the hooded ferryman. 

“I have no money,” Sirius said.

“You have no passage,” the ferryman rumbled. 

“He is with me.” Death appeared on his left-hand side. “I will carry us across the river, ferryman.”

The ferryman bowed and walked off the boat. 

“Usually we talk on this side,” Sirius whispered as he clambered into the boat. Death floated to the stern and without movement, spurred it forward. 

“I need to show you something.” 

They walked through the Elysian fields. Sirius was seeing the only part of the underworld that his mortal mind could comprehend—a vast field of spirits—but he knew the underworld was much more than that. 

They stopped in front of a large group of spirits, several of which looked to be tending to the others. 

“Death is cleansing,” Death whispered, “But some deaths are magically disruptive, corrupt, cruel…even I cannot fully heal some violent deaths in an instant. Sometimes it takes time.”

Sirius saw children, adults, and even some animals—they were in pain. The others, who were helping, were—unique, shifting in form, there but not there. Sirius transformed to the Grim, understanding flowing through him without conscious thought. He bounded forward, nuzzling and cuddling the wounded spirits.

He was unsure how long he was there, but he was neither the first nor last to leave the wounded spirits. Many had been healed in his time there, had moved from the session into an afterlife beyond his purview. Many needed more time. Instinctually he knew it was time for him to return, that Death had called for him.

He shifted back and silently they returned to the river and crossed over. 

“What happened to them?”

Death looked back to him; she was already floating back over the river without the aid of the boat.

“There were four. You have given me two. And now one is killing for life.” 

Sirius jolted out of his meditation harshly. His cooling charm had long faded and he had sweated through his light meditation wear. The sun was high overhead and he knew he had been in a trance far longer than one hour. 

He heard an elf pop away, knowing it was likely going to Grandmother or Rose to inform them he was awake. 

He shuddered despite the heat and took a moment to orient himself, to ease his way back into the land of the living with slow deep breaths. He ran his hands over his body, a habit he formed to ground himself after his trips to the Underworld. 

“Sirius!” Rose called from outside the circle.

“May this circle be open but unbroken by the blessings of magic,” he said, officially closing his meditation circle.

Rose rushed in. “Are you okay?” She waved a wand over him and Sirius recognized the rush of diagnostic and health charms. 

“I’m fine, love.” He pulled her close.

“You’re trembling!” She gripped him tighter. “You’ve been meditating for hours—you, you had transformed at one point. We wanted…I—” Rose softly hiccuped.

“I’m sorry for worrying you love,” Sirius rubbed her back. “I was with Death—I’m sorry.” 

Rose trembled in his arms and hid her face in his neck. “As long as she lets you come back to me.” 

_May your words have wings_ , he thought solemnly. He squeezed her tight then eased back. “Let’s go inside, I’m starving.” His lips quirked into a grin, hoping for a chuckle, but she frowned and pinched his side. 

They walked slowly back to the house, hand in hand, in silence. Sirius took the time to organize his thoughts…he needed to talk to Grandfather.

“Mum! Dad! Cephée threw up again!” Carina shrieked. “Ew! Percy just threw up too!”

Rose heaved a sigh. “No more children.”

Sirius laughed loudly, a sharp barking sound. “Deal.” 

///

Arcturus had spent many years planning the slow and careful demise of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore’s life during Wizengamot sessions. He had wondered, briefly, how he would pass the time after his untimely, tragic, sudden, and joyful death. 

Then Elias Doge became Minister for Magic. His father, Elphias Doge, had been a Special Advisor to the Wizengamot, a trumped-up secretarial position Dumbledore bestowed on him, no doubt to make the fool feel special. But Elias was craftier, Arcturus knew that. How else did he maneuver himself from the dead-end position in the Department of Magical Transportation to Minister for Magic? 

He needed to have Lucretia over again to review her memories of him from Hogwarts. Any bit of information would help. And maybe even have the boys join via their mirrors…if Arcturus remembered right, Elias had twins in their seventh year right now. 

“Arguments for the opposition?” Chief Wix Harold Fawley called out. 

Arcturus waited a moment, testing his own alliance. He saw Lucius lean back as well. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Theron Nott roll his eyes before lighting his seal. He hid a smirk—Theron was never a patient sort. 

“The proposed bill is overbroad and vague,” Theron rumbled. “It outlaws several black magic potion ingredients but also ingredients that are dark, not _black_.” He glanced over to Arcturus, smirking. “Some uneducated minds might not be able to tell the difference—” A murmur of protest swept through the crowd. “ _But_ some of these ingredients can be used to make healing potions or be used in fertility rituals that are _can not_ be classified as black magic.”

Sometimes, Arcturus thought, his ancestors were being funny with their surname.

He lit his seal before someone could call for a rebuttal. 

“Lord _Black_?” The Chief Wix barely repressed his smirk. 

Arcturus raised an eyebrow at him. Hufflepuffs, those sneaky little badgers.

“Black magic is an abomination to our Lady Hecate,” he said plainly, staring down Amos Diggory, another pawn in the Light coalition—but what faction he was in, Arcturus didn’t know. The only downside to Dumbledore’s death as far as Arcturus was concerned was the fractioning and fracturing of the Light alliance. “However, by ignoring dark magic, or _worse_ , pushing it into the same category as black magic, we ignore a precious part of our Lady Hecate. A part I would argue that is _always_ in the foreground. She is not only the one to give us magic, not only the one who guards over our magical souls, but she is also the Goddess of Magic, Witchcraft, _and_ the _Dark_ Side of the Moon. A side many have wished to forget. This dishonors her.” He heard the whispers of confusion and once again cursed Dumbledore. At least his great-grandchildren will have a superior education—one that doesn’t gloss over or shy away from the shadows. “Without light, there would be no shadows; without night, there would be no day.” He paused again, hoping to convert a few more hardliners to a more moderate grey. “I long for the day the battle between light and dark settles into its natural cohabitation. Until that day, I will be here, in the middle, to remind you fools.” 

He sat among the shocked silence and brooded over his slip. _Fuck._ He was too old to deal with fools and not call them out on it anymore, but that didn’t mean he wanted to call them out. He preferred a level of professionalism…Sirius will never let him forget this. The last time he lost his temper had been over the MATTHEW Act—but then, he had actually lost his temper; this time he just lost his patience.

The vote was called without further arguments on either side, but neither side succeeded in the two-thirds necessary to win their position. The Light coalition had grown since Dumbledore’s death—the stupid martyr—but so had the Grey alliance. At least the Grey alliance was truly aligned on all issues or else the Light coalition might have won. The Dark alliance had shrunk considerably, but unfortunately for Arcturus, it would be more aptly named the Black alliance. Again, he cursed his ancestors for their sense of irony. 

He immediately left the chambers, striding to the nearest apparition point. His patience had officially expired. 

Lucius caught up with him. “Shall I put it in my calendar that once I reach my 95th birthday, I will no longer have the patience for the fools of the Wizengamot?” He smirked at him. 

Arcturus scowled. “You’ll be lucky to reach your fifties without losing all your patience with these—” He stopped himself before he could say something truly terrible.

Lucius laughed loudly, drawing some attention from the lingering light-plagued limpets. “I’m sure Sirius will entertain me when you’re ready to retire.”

He snorted softly. “I wonder if the Chief Wix will realize there are actual decorum rules for the Wizengamot he can call upon when Sirius verbally eviscerates his enemies.”

“I hope not.” 

“I won’t tell my successor—” Arcturus turned to see that Harold Fawley had joined him on the left. Fawley smirked at him. “If you promise not to leave anytime soon.”

Arcturus quirked a brow. “I cannot tell if you expect a long or short reign as Chief Wix if you are measuring by my continued presence in the Wizengamot.” 

“Only measuring my level of entertainment, Lord Black.” Fawley followed them toward the apparition points just beyond the hallway of floos. “Perhaps we can meet for lunch? To stave off my slow death from boredom.”

Arcturus resisted the urge to quirk a brow at the proposal. He had underestimated Fawley as a light pawn before his ascension to Chief Wix. Many from the Grey alliance supported Fawley in the position so Arcturus didn’t resist but…well, he still knew very little about the Chief Wix, only that he had been the longest in position over these five years at nearly a year and a half. He was Light-leaning, that was clear but far fairer to the Dark than any of his predecessors.

Arcturus nodded slowly. “If only to entertain, Chief Wix.” 

Fawley smirked at him again, his eyes alight with mischief but Arcturus recognized a gleam quite similar to Sirius. _Interesting_. He would wait, before introducing Sirius, to evaluate Fawley’s positions…but if they were compatible, Sirius was far more entertaining than he. 

Lucius jostled him and he turned to find Lucius glaring at the sudden crowd of people swarming the hall. The crowds within the hall swayed and thickened, a sudden outpouring of people from offices, eager to go home, as the five o’clock hour ticked near. 

Lucius grumbled. “I hate when these sessions are too long.”

Fawley rolled his eyes. “I’ll try to shorten them for you Malfoy, so you don’t have to brush elbows with the working class.” 

Lucius glared at him and suddenly Arcturus felt his age again—were they about to bicker like teenagers? If so, he was going to call Melania here to twist both their ears and tell them to behave. 

“Gentlemen,” he warned softly as they walked through the crowd. Thank the goddess he still had his height, Malfoy and Fawley too, as the three of them together were an impressive and striking trio that cut through this stubborn crowd. They made it to the apparition points without a single elbow in their side. 

Fawley stepped onto the apparition point. “I’ll send an owl, Lord Black. Perhaps sometime next week?” 

He nodded. “Until then, Chief Wix.” 

As Fawley disapparated, someone shoved him hard into Lucius. His wand was already in his hand as he turned to yell at the rude little arse when he saw several spells shot his way. He shielded immediately, blocking two, but he stumbled back, his shield too late for one spell struck his chest. 

He thought he heard yelling, then strong hands on his chest, under his armpits…

Blood. There was blood on his robes. His chest felt tight, his whole world felt tight.

His only thought, however, before slipping into unconsciousness, was that the wix responsible was unprepared for the wrath of the House of Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I bet you weren't expecting that pairing...or maybe any of it? 
> 
> Also, I could not come up with a chapter name-usually I know before I finish writing the chapter but not this time, so that might change in the future. *update: changed the title*
> 
> Also, to address some of the readers who are Snape fans, I understand your disappointment, but let's be real, Pettigrew on his own doesn't stand a chance against the Black family.
> 
> Also, also, I finally downloaded Grammarly so any further mistakes can be blamed on the app!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter and thanks for reading!


	3. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood is life. Blood is death.

Professor Morgan was leaning against her desk when they entered the classroom. She was middle-aged by magical standards but didn’t look it. Her dark blonde hair fell in thick waves around a heart-shaped face and dark green eyes. She was dressed today as she always was, in the most elegant robes—and according to Hermione, robes that were always seen on Paris runways. All Harry knew was that she was the subject of several teenage fantasies and he was _barely_ immune. It helped a little that his girlfriend also had the biggest crush on her.

Magical ethics was a mandatory class through all seven years since, well, their second year. Cousin Cedrella had initially taught it with the help of Great Aunt Cassie that first semester. Harry enjoyed the class with them immensely even though he knew it wouldn’t last. Great Aunt Cassie had spent most of the previous summer trying to find a replacement for them but it wasn’t until Great Uncle Alphard suggested an old…well, Harry didn’t know it at the time, but an old, _scorned_ flame, Aneira Morgan. 

He had found that out later, after he walked in on Great Uncle Alphard in the library with Dad, going on a drunken, despairing rant about that one who got away. It was the summer before third year, and it took him weeks to be able to look Professor Morgan in the eye again after hearing about—however briefly—the passionate and wild sex she had had with his Great Uncle. He shuddered even now, though it was his personal pet project to try to get her and his great uncle back together. 

It was also his saving grace and distraction for the class because, while the content was truly fascinating, they shared the class with the seventh years. And for the last four years, he had to deal with the Doge twins. Elijah and Elizabeth Doge were the seventh year prefects for Hufflepuffs…and clearly only got into that house for their unwavering loyalty to themselves. 

He sat next to Hermione, in the front row, a sacrifice he has willingly made every year for this class. 

“Congratulations Harry, Hermione,” Padma said cheerfully as she sat next to Isobel behind them. Her words carried through the class and prompted everyone else to congratulate them. They replied with murmured thank yous, but Harry noticed that Elijah never actually congratulated him. That arse. 

“Congratulations indeed,” Professor Morgan said, calling attention back to her. “And an interesting segue into our topic for today.” 

Hermione perked up instantly. “How so Professor?”

Professor Morgan grinned, and with a wave of her hand, had the chalk writing on the broad behind her. _Blood magic_ , it wrote. “Betrothals lead to marriages and in some magical marriages, blood bonds are sworn. Blood magic has been and remains the most controversial magical practice around the world today.” Murmurs swelled within the classroom. “Can anyone think of other types of blood magic?” Several hands shot in the area. “Miss Doge?”

“Magical sacrifices,” Elizabeth said, “Certain types of wards.”

“Excellent, two points to Hufflepuff. Miss Patil?”

“Protection spells and fertility rites.” 

“Correct, two points to Ravenclaw. Mr. Doge?”

“Professor Morgan, are there not also some betrothal bonds that can be forced through blood magic?”

Harry’s clenched his hand before he could think. That bastard. Is that how he was going to try to spin Harry’s relationship with Hermione?

Professor Morgan frowned. “I suppose you are jumping ahead, Mr. Doge, and straight into the controversial issue of blood magic. Class, what do you think Mr. Doge is hinting at?" 

Hermione raised her hand before he could. He wanted to personally decimate Elijah for that. 

“Yes, Miss Ravenclaw?”

“Blood is a magical enhancer. Any spell, ritual, or bond that has been invoked by blood magic will be stronger, more powerful, and more potent than if it had been done without. Some spells do not care if the blood was forcibly taken or not, thus potentially subjugating someone of their own free will. However, there is research that shows that some spells _do_ care if the blood was given consensually or not and that its consent or lack thereof _does_ affect the potency of the spell. In fact, I would argue that any _forced_ betrothal bond would not be as powerful and potentially weakened by the forced nature of the bond.

“Thorough and precise, five points to Ravenclaw.” Professor Morgan grinned at her before turning her gaze to him, “Mr. Potter, you grew up at Ravenswood, correct?”

Harry nodded sharply—this was the first time _ever_ that she hinted at knowing his relation to the Black family. He had thought she avoided the issue because of Great Uncle Alphard. 

“Would you be willing to share how the Ravenswood wards were created?”

“Oh,” Harry breathed. It had actually been one of his favorite stories growing up. “Ara, a daughter of the House of Black when the House was still in the Roman Empire, traveled to England on her own to explore. She had, well nowadays it would be considered a mastery, so, she had a mastery in ley lines. She found an intersection of four ley lines, creating a perfect compass with cross-quarter lines, where Ravenswood now sits. She began to build a home there but was attacked by local wix who wanted the ley line intersection for themselves. She defended the area and called for her brothers’ assistance, but they were far away so she had to defend it herself. In the end, she cast a circle on the ley line and sacrificed herself.” The entire class gasped. “When her brothers arrived, several acres of the countryside were encased in blood wards that would not allow anyone but blood relatives to pass. They eventually infused her sacrifice into the wards we have today. But, well, if you’re of Black blood, you can still feel her magic in the wards, all these centuries later.” 

“You can still feel her magic?” Macmillan asked. “How horrid!”

Harry scowled, turning to face him. “It’s not horrid, it’s beautiful. Ara sacrificed herself for the idea of a safe home and she still protects us today.” 

Macmillan still looked disgusted at the idea but Professor Morgan cleared her throat pointedly so Harry turned back around.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter, for sharing a bit of family history with us, ten points to Ravenclaw. And that brings us to the crux of the issue.” She paused, gazing intently at the class, “Blood magic is _not_ inherently light or dark, but rather the _intent_ of using blood makes all the difference. Ara Black used her blood to create wards that protect Ravenswood over a millennia later. A protection ward is considered Light magic, is it not?” She gazed around the class even though it was a rhetorical question. “However, Mr. Doge has brought up the counterpoint to this conversation, as subjugating someone else’s will is _black_ magic. What many of you may not know is that the Imperious curse began as a blood-based potion that acted much the same way. The potion required the forcible taking of the victim’s blood and when done properly, it subjugated the person to the potioneer and it was nearly impossible to break.”

The entire class seemed frozen at the thought and Harry shuddered. It was one of his worst nightmares. He knew everyone thought he feared the Killing Curse above all, especially considering the memories that surfaced when he began to seriously train in occlumency… But no, the Imperious Curse…he had nightmares of being forced to hurt Hermione, hurt his family because of that curse. 

“But, as Miss Ravenclaw has said, blood magic _enhances_ and _strengthens_ any spell or ritual. A protection spell’s power is doubled and yet a curse, equally so. Therefore, what is the most ethical position on blood magic?” She paused but no one hands rose and she grinned at their hesitation. Harry didn’t think there was a right answer. “Your next assignment, due at the start of the next class, will be a two-foot essay on the ethical use of blood magic. You must choose a position—are you for or against blood magic? Do its abuses outweigh its uses? Consider the opposition and directly address why your position is stronger.

///

“Time for dinner lads,” Sirius said as he secured Percy to his highchair and Tippy secured Cephée.

“Mum!” Percy yelled. 

Sirius snorted. “Mum is not dinner anymore.”

“Mum! Mum!” Cephée and Percy began to chant.

“Oh Merlin, someone help me.” Sirius pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. Carina and Leo were gifts, precious gifts he never thought he would have. Perseus Regulus and Cepheus Orion were his punishment, karma for all bad deeds he had ever done. 

He heard Rose’s laughter over his shoulder and the boys screeched with delight once they saw their mum. 

“Hello, boys!” She greeted each with two smacking kisses on their cheeks and they giggled in response. “Are you torturing daddy?”

“Ha, ha,” Sirius pinched her side. “Did you gather our _actual_ children?” 

Carina’s bright laughter answered that for him. “Grandmama says it’s actually the opposite.” 

Sirius frowned playfully. “I don’t know what Grandma is talking about it. I was a perfect little star just like you.” He rounded the table and pressed a kiss on her long, curly black hair. 

Rose snorted. And then Leo entered the dining room, talking a mile a minute to Grandma about who knew what. Tippy was popping in and out with a variety of foods. And Sirius took a moment to breathe and enjoy the presence of his family. He wished Harry was there, but he was eagerly awaiting his mirror call for news about his betrothal plans. 

“Where’s Grandpa?” Leo asked. 

“Still at the Ministry dear,” Grandma answered, glancing at her watch. “The Wizengamot must’ve done a full day.” 

Sirius shuddered. He was supposed to have joined Grandfather for the afternoon session. But by the time he got out of his meeting with Death…he had been too tired to go. 

“Let’s wait a few more minutes then—” Rose stopped because at that moment the wards shuddered, alerting them all of Grandfather’s arrival home as well as Lucius. 

“Stay here!” Sirius ordered as he ran through the halls. The minute they had apparated in, Sirius felt the magical wave of _injuries, wrong, hurt_ along the wards. His wand in hand, he skidded around the corner to see Grandfather and Lucius covered in blood. “Fuck! What happened?” Sirius fell to his knees, falling back into the Hit Wix training he could never forget, casting diagnostics and patchwork healing charms.

“Piercing charm,” Lucius said roughly, “I think. Get ‘Meda.”

Sirius cast his Patronus immediately. “Lesson One. Ravenswood.” He turned back to Grandfather, stomach rolling. His grandfather had been attacked. _Attacked_. And after this morning, with Death, and… “Fuck! Fuck!” Sirius hit his hands to the ground hard and then refocused.

A pop of apparition alerted him to ‘Meda before the wards could. And then he was pushed aside as she went to work. Lucius sat next to him, breathing heavily. 

“Tippy!” He called. 

She appeared instantly, her hands wringing as she glanced nervously at Grandfather. “Yes, Master Sirius?”

“Go to the family. Tell them we are having an emergency Gathering.”

She nodded sharply before disappearing with a pop.

Sirius turned to Lucius. “You injured?” 

He shook his head. “I’m fine. We cast shields but not before one spell came through.”

Sirius nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Where were you?”

Lucius glanced at him, face pale but eyes set. “We were at the apparition points for the Ministry.” 

On cue, Sirius felt a ward notification; Aurors were requesting entrance to Ravenswood. Sirius shuddered, sudden anger rolling through him. The fucking Ministry. His grandfather was attacked in the fucking Ministry and now, nearly ten minutes later, they were arriving? For what? To help? To interrogate? 

“I have extra robes in my rooms. Get changed and join everyone in the Gathering.”

Lucius’s eyebrows shot up. “I thought I wasn’t allowed in that room?” 

“Usually,” Sirius stood up and reached down to help Lucius. He turned back to ‘Meda and Grandfather. He was looking better, not as pale as he had been. “‘Meda?” Sirius whispered, hesitant to interrupt her focus.

“I need blood replenishing potions ASAP.” ‘Meda didn’t look up from Grandfather’s chest, her wand still moving in quick, decisive movements. 

“Kreacher!”

“Yes, M-m-master S-Sirius?” 

“Go to Cassiopeia and ask her to bring several blood replenishing potions directly to the foyer.” 

Kreacher nodded and popped away. 

“Anything else?” 

“Another Healer.” ‘Meda looked up, a short break in her stalwart attention. “The piercing charm went through his lung, Sirius. We’re lucky it didn’t hit his heart. But I can’t heal this alone.” 

Sirius cast another Patronus, with a bit more effort than the first. “Uncle Iggy, I need to you come to Ravenswood foyer _immediately_. It’s a life or death matter.” 

He appeared less than a minute later, took one look at the scene, and knelt opposite to Andromeda. “What do you need me to do?”

Sirius took a breath but forced himself to walk away, and through the front door. He felt Lucius follow him.

“You need to get cleaned up,” Sirius muttered.

Lucius snorted. “I’m not about to let you face off a bunch of aurors alone. It’s not worth the lecture I’d have to endure from my wife.” 

“Cissy is quite vicious.” Sirius held out his arm, which Lucius grabbed after a moment’s hesitation, and apparated them to the edge of the wards. At this location, Lucius and he could see several Aurors but they could not see them. Yet.

He walked through the last ward line but stopped before he reached the first. In between these ward lines, the Aurors could see him but minor charms and jinxes would still be stopped by the first ward line. Ravenswood was not the most well-warded property in England for nothing and only Hogwarts could boast better wards in the British Isles.

“Auror Shacklebolt,” Sirius called out to the only one he recognized.

“Sirius! I mean, Heir Black, I—” 

“Who attacked Lord Black, Duke of Blackmoor?” Sirius cut him up off harshly. He felt Lucius step forward next to him and “ahem” in that rather arrogant way of his. “And Lord Malfoy, Earl of Wiltshire?”

“Lord Malfoy, um,” Shacklebolt stared at his shirt pointedly, “are you injured?” 

“No, but Lord Black was. Who attacked us?”

Shacklebolt sighed. “We were hoping you’d tell us. By the time we arrived on the scene, you were gone and witnesses were frightened and—”

“Useless,” Sirius snarled. “Arrived on the scene? They were attacked in the Ministry! Did you have no auror presence in the Atrium? Near the floos? Near the apparition points? These are the entrances to our government and _your_ offices are they not?” 

“Heir Black, we do have some aurors present, yes, but it was five o’clock… Everyone was leaving… We had no clear line of sight.” 

Sirius growled. “Who was stationed there? Would they submit their memories of the incident?”

“It would be useless if they didn’t see anything, Heir Black.” 

“No it wouldn’t be,” Lucius said coolly. “There’s enough ambient magic within the Ministry and especially around myself and Lord Black that it is very likely we could observe people we did not see in memory.”

“That would still take a very powerful pensieve, Lord Malfoy,” one of the aurors snarled, “Not that we would have one.”

“The Black family owns such a pensieve,” Sirius said shortly, “I’d be willing to allow the lead auror on this case access.” He could tell that a few aurors were disgruntled and distrusting of the idea but he couldn’t care less. The Ministry was better in some ways than it was under Fudge, but Doge…well, his father had worshipped Dumbledore and mourned him loudly, publicly, and encouraged others to do the same. If his son was cut from the same cloth, at best he was a fool but at worst he was a fanatic follower. Either way, it was still the unofficial stance of the Black family to not trust anything or anyone from the Ministry.

Shacklebolt, however, nodded sharply. “I’ll collect as many memories as I can.” He glanced at Lucius. “Will Lord Black and Lord Malfoy also be submitting memories?”

Lucius nodded. “Of course, anything to aid in the investigation of the attempted murderof two nobles.” 

Shacklebolt sighed in relief. “Lord Black has survived his injuries then?”

Sirius growled. “So far.” 

“Shouldn’t we bring him to St. Mungo’s then?” One of the aurors called out.

Sirius shook his head. “No. Our family healers are tending him. We will update you if there is…a change.” 

Shacklebolt nodded stiffly. “I’ll send an owl once I’ve gathered all the memories.”

“Until then.” 

Sirius turned and stepped back through the wards without another word. Lucius followed and held Sirius’s extended arm for the return trip. They apparated back into the foyer but no one was there, only a pool of blood on the marble floor. 

“We need to destroy all magical connections to his spilled blood,” Lucius murmured, stripping out of his ruined robes. “I didn’t have time to see if I left any behind at the scene.” 

Sirius ran a hand over his face. “We should have asked but…”

“No need to give them the opportunity to lie to our face.” 

“Tippy!” Sirius called. She appeared immediately before him. “Can you bring Grandmother to me, please? And…and an update on Grandfather.” Tippy nodded quickly before popping away.

“Oh, Sirius!” Grandmother cried out as she appeared in the foyer. She squeezed him tightly. “Oh, I can’t even…” She hiccuped softly and Sirius rubbed his hand soothingly on her back. 

“Grandmother?” He questioned softly. 

“He’s stable,” She hiccuped again, “And furious of course, but Andromeda and Ignatius won’t let him leave his bed.” She laughed wetly, wiping tears from her eyes. “What do you need from me, dear?”

Sirius sighed, tension leaving his shoulders for the first time in what felt like hours even though it had only been an hour at most. 

“Lucius and I are going to purge his magical connection to his blood and…”

“As his magical wife, I’m the next best thing to help assist you.” Grandmother nodded firmly and turned to Tippy, “Please bring any clothes…well, any _things_ that have Arcturus’s blood on. Provide Andromeda and Ignatius with robes if necessary.”

Tippy popped away and within moments, clothes began appearing on top of the pile Lucius had started in the pool of blood on the foyer floor. Grandmother had begun to draw a circle line with her wand and Lucius was changing without an ounce of body shame into clean robes after a few extensive cleaning charms on any blood that dried on him. For a moment, Sirius was prepared to start the ritual when a vial of blood appeared onto the pile of clothes. They stopped and stared. 

Someone… Sirius growled. It was proof…definitive proof that someone had planned for this attack. That someone had a want for Grandfather’s blood. 

“Blood magic,” Lucius whispered. 

Tippy appeared before him, looking exhausted in a way that alarmed him. She must have expended a lot of her magic to look this way. 

“Tippy where did you find this?” 

“Albania sir.”

All three exclaimed, “Albania?” 

She nodded vigorously. “I not see any wix but I felt bad magics so I took it and left.”

“Bad magics,” Grandmother whispered. “Oh Lady Hecate, guard us.” 

“Can you sense any more blood?” Lucius asked. 

Tippy shook her head. “That be all.” 

Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. At least they got it before it had been used. “Come on,” he gestured to the two of them, “Let’s get this over with. We still have…gods, we still have other things to worry about.” 

Blood magic. Magical souls wounded even in death. Assignation attempts. 

Their enemy was on the move. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo! another chapter down. thank you, everyone, for leaving wonderful comments <3 
> 
> FYI, this might be edited in the future-- I had some late inspo/new thoughts but decided to post this as is in order to keep with my schedule. I'll make a note if I do edit it and if it substantially changes the chapter that you *should* reread it. 
> 
> Otherwise, enjoy and may the force be with you :)


	4. War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The House of Black is at war.

Sirius followed Lucius into the room for the impromptu Gathering. Grandmother had retreated back to her rooms to care for Grandfather. Rose had Percy in her lap and Aunt Lucy had Cephée in hers. Dora was distracting Carina and Leo with her infamous pig nose but nothing could ease the tension in the room.

“Lucius?” Cissy held her hand out for her husband and no one commented on the slight tremble in her fingers. Lucius gripped her hand, placing a quick kiss to her fingers before settling beside her at the table. 

“I’m fine,” he murmured. 

“And Arcturus?” Uncle Cygnus asked, looking to Sirius. 

Sirius settled uneasily into the head chair at the table. “Grandmother reports he’s stable. Tippy!” She appeared to his left. “Go to Andromeda, ask if she can come to the Gathering.” Tippy nodded, ears flapping, before popping away. 

“Who the bloody fuck attacked Arcturus in the middle of the fucking ministry!” Uncle Alphard yelled. 

“Alphard!” Several voices yelled, or in the case of Uncle Cygnus, sighed dramatically. Uncle Cygnus waved a hand to Sirius’s children, the only young ears in the room, “There are young children present, in case you’ve forgotten,” he drawled. 

Sirius glanced at Carina and Leo, both of them staring at him, their eyes wide and worried. He held out his arms and they immediately gathered in close. “Grandfather is fine,” he murmured softly. He glared at his uncle before looking to Dora. “Is your dad here? Could he—”

“No Daddy!” Carina pushed away and stomped her foot. “I want to stay. I want to know what happened.” 

“He’s at home, but I’ll send a patronus,” Dora said. 

Sirius nodded to Dora gratefully before turning to his fierce little stars. He gathered Carina close again. Leo had tucked his riotous head of dark blond curls into his neck and was sniffling. He squeezed them closer. “Grandfather is fine,” he said softly, “He was hurt but Cousin ‘Meda and Great Uncle Iggy are taking care of him. Cousin Lucius brought Grandfather safely home and now the  _ adults _ are going to protect the family.” 

“Daddy!” Carina yelled but Sirius cupped her cheek before she could work herself up to a rant.

“Look at me little stars, both of you,” Sirius reached up and brushed Leo’s hair from his face. “I know you want to help, but you are still young—”

“But—” Carina tried to yell but Sirius narrowed his eyes in consternation and she stopped and pouted. 

“It is the adult’s job to protect the children. Period.” He looked between the two of them. “What’s lesson number one?”

“Family first,” they both said immediately. 

“Family first doesn’t mean rushing headfirst into danger because there might be a threat,” Sirius said solemnly, laughing and cringing internally as all the memories of him doing exactly that filtered across his mind. He had learned that lesson the hard way, in a Ministry holding cell before his grandfather had calmly come to his rescue. “Family first means gathering the family close, sharing all the information we have, and coming up with a plan together.”

“But—”

“Carina,” Rose said sharply, “You are my baby. You are not old enough.” 

“Daddy!” Leo and Carina glared at their mum before turning to him, Carina’s dark blue eyes and Leo’s grayish-brown pleading with him.

“Lesson number six.”

Leo frowned, struggling to remember but Carina said softly, “If you cannot, someone else can.” 

Sirius nodded encouragingly. “Which means?” 

“Help!” Leo said loudly, his pride over knowing the answer causing him to shout, “If you can’t do something, you ask for help.”

“Good job, Leo,” Sirius smiled. “Now, my little stars, I know you want to help, but this is not the job for you. Not yet.” He shushed Carina softly before she could try to argue again. “When you are older, you will be here to help the family but for now, the best help you can be for the family is to stay with Cousin Ted. Okay?” 

They both nodded, Carina somewhat mulishly. 

“Maybe we can make cookies for Grandpa Arcturus?” Ted’s voice carried over from the door. “I know cookies always make me feel better.” 

Sirius could see both of his kids perk up at the thought cookies, even though they both tried to fight their natural joy. He stifled a grin and glanced at Ted. “That sounds like a great plan, Ted, and a perfect way to help the family right now.” He turned back to Carina and Leo. “Will you please go with Cousin Ted and help him make cookies for everyone?” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Leo said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before bouncing off to Ted.

“Mmokay,” Carina mumbled, mollified and defeated. Sirius hugged her quickly and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, my little star.” 

Carina nodded before walking over to Lucius. “I’m glad you’re okay Uncle Lucy.” Lucius reached his arms out for a hug and Carina quickly wrapped her arms around him. 

“Thank you starshine,” he said softly, “And thank you for making us cookies. That’s exactly what I need to feel better.”

Carina mumbled something but Sirius couldn’t hear. Judging from the amused look on Lucius’s face, it was probably some snark over the situation. 

No one could ever accuse a daughter of the House of Black accepting defeat  _ gracefully _ . 

Finally, with one last, reassuring look from Ted, Carina and Leo left the room. Sirius sat back down at the head of the table, pressed his left palm to a rune, and sealed the room. Not a full seal, as he still wanted Andromeda to join them, but he did lock down the full house wards. No one was going in or out of Ravenswood without risking a fatal injury.

After Sirius felt the wards lock into place, he turned to Lucius. “What happened?”

Lucius shifted in his seat before sitting up even straighter. “We had left the Wizengamot session and were walking towards the apparition points. Chief Wix Fawley joined us after a moment and we were talking. There…there were a lot of people, everyone was leaving to go home.” Lucius frowned. “I…will need mediate to recall the exact words in our conversation but the Chief Wix noted my displeasure over the crowds and joked that he would try to get us out earlier so we wouldn’t have to deal with all the people.” 

Sirius frowned. Was that pertinent to the attack or was Lucius just being thorough?

“We three stood together and cut through the crowd to the apparition points—it was not difficult but bothersome. At the apparition point, Arcturus finalized a plan to have lunch with the Chief Wix and then Fawley apparated away. At that moment, someone pushed into Arcturus who stumbled into me. I turned and saw three spells coming at us. We shielded but one came through and struck Arcturus. I sent a widespread blasting spell, it pushed everyone away from us so I hoped it knocked down our attackers. At the very least, it distracted them and I dragged Arcturus to the apparition point and apparated us both here.” 

“Did you see who fired the spells?” Callidora asked. 

Lucius closed his eyes, still frowning. “I can’t…right now, I can’t see or connect anyone to the spells. But I’ll meditate on it. And hopefully, with the other memories, we can see who fired.”

“Other memories?” Callidora looked from Lucius to Sirius.

Sirius nodded. “Aurors arrived a few minutes after Lucius apparated here.” His lip curled in disgust and anger. “They also apparently didn’t see who attacked. But the lead auror on the case, Shacklebolt, agreed to gather the memories of the aurors who were on duty. We’ll review it, along with Lucius’s and Grandfather’s memories in our pensieve.”

“You can’t give the Ministry access to our pensieve!” Aunt Lucy looked appalled. “They’ll have to come into Ravenswood…into the dimensional pocket where it’s held.” 

Sirius almost growled—who cared about that when Grandfather was attacked!—but Rose placed a hand on his and cleared her throat. “Can we move it? Maybe to one of the dower properties?” 

“Grimmauld Place,” Cygnus said before anyone could suggest anywhere else. Sirius shuddered. He hadn’t stepped into Grimmauld in years. He honestly had hoped to die without ever going back to that place. It was a prison…one that he broke free from but his father, his brother…they never did. “Orion was brilliant with wards—no one can get in  _ or out _ of that place without permission.” 

Callidora pursed her lips. “It has been used as the de-facto place of meeting for the Blacks before.”

“Mostly to those we wish to spite,” Cedrella muttered.

“Or who we don’t trust with access to Ravenswood,” Alphard added, “And right now, that’s everyone but family.” 

Tippy popped to his side and everyone focused on her. “Master Black be resting,” she said firmly, “Mistress Black and Missus Lucy’s Iggy be watching him.” 

“And Andromeda?” Sirius asked.

“She be coming now.” 

“Thank you Tippy. Go to Grandmother and see to her needs.”

Cepheus began to squirm and mumble in Aunt Lucy’s arms. Before he could build himself up to full-blown tantrum, Sirius reached out and took him into his arms. He bounced him gently as he thought through the night’s events. Cephée grabbed a chunk of his hair and chewed it. 

They haven’t even gotten to the worst bit of news.

“Grandmother, Lucius, and I performed a blood cleansing ritual.”

“Good thinking,” Dora muttered.

“Quick thinking,” Lucius countered, “As Tippy retrieved a vial of his blood from Albania.” 

Silence fell in a thick wave. Then someone choked on air and the yelling started. Sirius couldn’t tell who was saying what between Uncle Alphard’s ranting, Cousin Cedrella’s threats, and the rest of them going off. 

There was a loud bang at the door and everyone turned to see Cousin Cassie there with her wand out. “What the bloody hell is going on here?”

“Language,” Rose groaned, bouncing Percy, who had started to cry at the outburst. Sirius turned Cephée slightly, hoping that if he didn’t see his brother crying he wouldn’t also cry.

“Blood magic,” Cygnus growled. He turned back to Sirius. “Did you get all of it?”

Sirius nodded. “Tippy confirmed. She got it all before it could be used.”

“Did she say anything else? Did she see anything else?” Cygnus pressed.

Lucius and he shook their heads. “She sensed ‘bad’ magic, got the vial, and got out quick.” Sirius gestured Cassie in and Andromeda followed behind her. “‘Meda, how’s Grandfather?”

She sighed, dropping into the chair next to Dora. “He’s stable. The piercing charm was through and through. Cousin Iggy and I healed his lung and the puncture wounds. I transferred two blood replenishing potions directly into his stomach and he took another, as well as a deep tissue knitter before he fell asleep.” She looked at everyone in the room. “He will be fine,” she said firmly, “But, we’re lucky. He’s lucky. Two inches higher, and it would have pierced him straight through the heart.” 

Sirius shivered before clutching Rose’s hand. Grandfather was fine. He was safe and he was alive.

“So,” Cousin Cassie harrumphed, “the real question is about the idiot who attacked us…were they sharp with their wand work, or were they sloppy?” 

Dora leaned forward, catching Cousin Cassie’s eye. “It would depend on the blood magic, wouldn’t it? How many spells require the donor to live and how many don’t?”

“Or if there was an opportunist in the crowd,” Narcissa murmured. “Lucius and Arcturus were walking with the Chief Wix. What if Arcturus wasn’t even the target and they just missed hitting the Chief Wix?”

Sirius groaned. There were too many options, too many risks. He shook his head, thinking of his conversation with Death. Had that seriously just been this morning? 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “Whether Grandfather was the target or Lucius or Fawley, someone took Grandfather’s blood. Someone has declared war on the House of Black. And I think it’s Voldemort.” 

///

Harry felt gross but Cho had insisted on Quidditch practice right after dinner and Draco insisted on a bitch session as soon as they could. So here he was, sweating, dirty, and wishing Cho had just quit the team after he made seeker instead of easily pivoting to chaser. If only he was the captain this year, he wouldn’t be wishing for a shower in an abandoned classroom watching Draco pace and mutter.

“Spit it out Draco,” he groaned, leaning against a desk and crossing his arms, “I have to mirror call Dad soon—you know he wanted to know how the betrothal went.” 

Draco sneered at him. “Oh so sorry to keep you from telling your dad what he already knows happened.” He threw his hands in the air. “Was it really a surprise when Hermione said yes? You’ve guys been together for years now.” 

Harry scowled but bit his lip from saying something he’d regret. He knew Draco was just upset over Fay. 

Nev heaved a sigh worthy for the stage. He pushed himself off the desk at the front of the class. “Draco—”

Draco glared at him. 

Nev put his hands up in surrender. “Why don’t you just talk to her?” 

“Oh, what a brilliant plan. Why haven’t I thought of that? How quaint, how pure and simple.” 

Harry caught Nev’s eye and they both winced. Draco was really working himself up into a full-blown rant.

“So simple in fact,” Draco continued, pacing in front of them, “It’s almost like I thought of it before—and, you know, already  _ tried _ !” He whirled at them. “She runs from me! And Blaise. And—”

The door opened and Blaise walked in, rubbing the side of his face. He winced when he saw Draco and Draco rushed to him.

“Are you okay?” 

Blaise nodded, squeezing Draco’s hand. “Yeah but…” He sighed. “This might be more difficult than we thought.” 

“What?” Harry frowned, sharing a confused glance with Nev. “What happened?”

Blaise settled on a desk across from them and groaned. “I tried to talk to Fay in the library.” 

“Fuck,” Nev whispered. Harry patted his shoulder sympathetically; yeah, his plan clearly failed. 

“Yeah,” Blaise said flatly. “Long story short, she slapped me and we’re both banned from the library for a month.” 

“She slapped you?” Draco yelled, his face going ruddy with temper. 

“Hey, calm down,” Blaise tugged Draco to him. “It’s kind of my fault? Maybe. I don’t know, she was walking away so I grabbed her arm and she yelled and I yelled and then she slapped me. So…yeah, maybe I deserved it a little bit.” 

Harry winced. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “How can you two be so gone on her and not—”

“Shut up,” Draco snapped.

“Hey!” Blaise raised his hands. “To be fair, it’s not like triads are common—”

“Yeah they are,” Harry, Nev, and Draco protested immediately. 

Blaise shook his head. “They aren’t common outside of the Black family. I didn’t even realize that was what Draco wanted until…”

Until Harry threatened Draco that he would shove them into a broom closet if he didn’t do something soon. They had all been friends and watching Draco pine after Blaise and Fay, watching Blaise and Fay circle each other, both insecure of each other while clearly having feelings for each other and Draco and…ugh, watching that had been annoying for him, but distressing for Hermione. And it had been their OWL year—yeah, that was way too much stress for their fifth year. 

This year, Harry would like to promise Hermione a peaceful, stress-free year. But so far, Fay refused to join them for library sessions or pickup Quidditch games and he knew both Isobel and Hermione were upset at losing a friend. 

“Right, well, do you think she’ll listen to me?” Nev glanced between the three of them. “I mean, we do live in the same tower, so she’s probably in the common room now.” 

“And what would you say?” Blaise asked at the same time Draco yelled, “You can’t tell her how we feel!”

Everyone turned to Draco, eyebrows raised and he glared back—his pouty glare though, so Harry knew he felt defeated. “It’s ungentlemanly,” Draco muttered, “She should hear from us how we feel about her.” 

Nev snorted and teased, “We call it cowardly in Gryffindor.” Draco snarled but Nev laughed. “I’m not going to tell her how you feel. I’ll just loudly talk about how normal triads are and how the Black family is famous for having a few.” 

Blaise frowned, thinking, and asked, “And how are you going to do that?” 

Nev glanced at Harry, smirking, “Gryffindor’s honor.” He raised his right hand in the air, “I’ll get it done without saying a word about either of you.” 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, trying to find the loophole in his pledge. “Okay,” he said slowly, still unsatisfied but stuck without another way around it.

“Great!” Harry clapped his hands. “With that settled, I’d like to go shower now.” 

Draco muttered under his breath, “Yeah okay, fine.” 

Harry rolled his eyes as Nev followed him out the door. “Good night Draco, Blaise. See you tomorrow!” 

“Bye!” Blaise called after him. 

Nev and he slowly trudged up the stairs. After they were a good distance from the classroom, Harry asked, “So how are you going to do it?”

Nev dissolved into a fit of laughter and Harry started snickering, imagining what Nev had in mind. 

Nev straightened with great effort and fixed his tie, an evil glint in his eye. “Well, as Fay and I are the sixth year prefects, it is our job to educate and foster the younger kids. So I’m going to call a meeting with all the younger years and tell them all about triad relationships and that if they have more questions they should ask me, or you, or Draco, as the Black family is infamous for having triad relationships.” Nev glanced to him, smirking, “While looking straight into Fay’s eyes.” 

Harry snorted before dissolving into breathless laughter. “Merlin, I wish I could be there—” He paused, eyes alight with mischief. “Actually, if you give me an hour I can shower and run back with my cloak!” Last year had been the first time he was allowed to take the cloak to Hogwarts…well, he was pretty sure “allowed” actually meant that Dad had made a convincing duplicate to fool Mum into thinking he hadn’t brought it with him. It was…nice to have a piece of his first dad with him at Hogwarts and he was  _ almost _ over the fact that Dumbledore had stolen the cloak from him. He felt a duty to use the cloak at lease once a week, in honor of having it back where it belonged, with a  _ Potter _ .

Nev laughed sharply. “Yes perfect, then you can be my witness so Draco and Blaise can’t accuse me of lying.” 

Harry grinned. “Brilliant. Give me an hour!” Harry ran off, jogging up to Ravenclaw tower at a steady pace. 

He found a first-year at the knocker, near tears, and sighed. This was definitely the worst part about Ravenclaw tower. He smiled at George. “Hey George, riddle giving you a hard time?” 

George hitched his bag higher on his shoulder. “I can figure it out,” he said quickly, “I know I can but…”

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, kid, I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to stump us at times.” 

The Grey Lady appeared beside him at the moment. He bowed his head. “Hello, Miss Ravenclaw.” 

“Mr. Potter, Mr. Lewis.” 

“Hi,” George said softly, shifting closer to Harry. 

“Mr. Potter’s assessment is correct,” she said, looking back to the Eagle Knocker, “How else are you to learn if you don’t know the answers.” She gestured to the door, and Harry gamely knocked. 

“My life can be measured by hours,” the Eagle started, “I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. The wind is my foe.”

“I said fire,” George started, “but—”

“Incorrect,” the Eagle said. 

“Right,” George groaned. 

Harry scratched his head. Six years and he has never heard the same riddle twice. He wondered how the hell Rowena Ravenclaw managed it…he was sure it was one of Hermione’s many side projects. 

“Um…”

“A tricky one, to be sure,” the Grey Lady said, before walking through the door into the common room.

“I wish I could do that,” George muttered.

“Same here,” Harry chuckled. “But I think I got it. Its life is measured in hours…so a candle?”

The door swung open. 

George sighed in relief. “Thanks, Harry!” 

He smiled, patting him on the back. “No problem, and don’t be afraid to knock. Sometimes it’s  _ wise _ to ask for help.” 

George snickered before running off to his friends. Harry glanced around and found Hermione near the fireplace with Isobel, Luna, and a few other girls. She looked up to him, grinned widely, and waved him over.

He stopped behind her chair and pressed a quick kiss to her hair. “Evening ladies,” he said, winking. Several of the younger girls giggled and blushed.

“Evening Casanova,” Hermione drawled, rolling her eyes. She sniffed loudly before turning to him and frowning. “You stink. I thought the practice was over hours ago.” 

“Draco called an emergency cousin gathering,” Harry said, shifting to sit on the edge of her chair. “I’m actually just here to shower and I’m going to meet back up with Nev.” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow and Harry nodded, knowing she had correctly guessed that it was Fay Draco was worried about. She sighed in relief. “Well, I hope you solve that issue soon.” 

“Fay is hanging out with a lot of wrackspurts though,” Luna said dreamily, “So be careful.” 

He chuckled. Trust Luna to say everything and nothing all at the same time. “Thanks, Luna, I’ll warn the others.”

She beamed at him as everyone laughed softly around them. He was glad that Isobel befriended Luna almost as soon as she was sorted. Luna was…strange…but strange in such a Ravenclaw way that Hermione was constantly asking her questions. He figured learning how Luna saw the world was one of the few things that Hermione ever struggled to understand, not that it stopped Hermione from trying to figure it out. 

Harry glanced at his watch. “I got to go,” he said, popping back up, “I’ll be back before curfew.” He pressed a quick kiss to Hermione’s cheek before bounding up the stairs to his room. “Hey, Kevin!” He called to his roommate, who was on his bed making careful notes about the runes laid out on his bed, before stepping into the adjoining showers. 

“Hey Harry, wait!” 

Harry popped his head back from the bathroom door. “What’s up?”

Kevin pointed to Harry’s bed, “Your mirror mate, it’s been buzzing.”

Harry frowned, before walking back to his bed. He knew he should have called his dad earlier but Dad never really called him. Dad knew he would call him before bed, at the very least. He opened his side table just as his mirror started to buzz again. 

“Dad,” Harry said, answering the call. 

Dad’s face appeared in the mirror, but it wasn’t…He looked drawn, and pale, and… Harry collapsed onto his bed. 

“Dad?” He croaked. 

“Everyone’s alive,” Dad started firmly. But that wasn’t comforting at all. 

The rest of the conversation did not go better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, dollar short. Oops! But in my defense, I usually write on Sundays, and I couldn't finish up the chapter because of Mother's Day. So, happy belated Mother's day! 
> 
> I hope y'all are staying sane during this quarantine and staying safe. I know I'm about to reach the limits of my sanity so I'm finding new ways to entertain myself.
> 
> Anyone have any good fanfics to recommend?


	5. Defense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best defense is a good offense. 
> 
> *Trigger Warning* 
> 
> There is a brief conversation about rape. There are NO descriptions of rape and there is only a *there if you squint* reference to a non-main character being a victim of rape. Mostly the conversation is Prof. Lupin explaining consent and that the use of lust potions invalidates consent.

The next morning, Harry went to the end of the Hufflepuff table. The first years were startled and sent confused looks to their prefects, but everyone else mostly ignored him. Hermione had chosen to sit next to him this time, which he knew was for their betrothed status—and he couldn’t even really appreciate it.

Draco and Nev joined him as soon as they entered.

“Morning,” Nev said softly as he sat down.

Draco grunted.

Hermione reached over and prepared their tea silently. They started to eat, in silence, knowing their brief moment of stolen peace would disappear once the morning newspapers hit.

Harry was sure he heard the first gasp from the Head Table, but soon murmurs and furtive glances were coming from every table. Hedwig had delivered the paper to Hermione, per usual, before settling on Harry’s shoulder. Harry caught a glimpse of the headline: “LORDS BLACK AND MALFOY ATTACKED; LORD BLACK CRITICALLY INJURED!”

“It’s very brief,” Hermione whispered, “A statement from Auror Shacklebolt confirming that Lor—that Great-Grandfather Black was injured but healed and resting at home.”

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand and slowly sipped his tea. It was important to represent a united front against whoever orchestrated the attack even if…well, even if they didn’t really know who it was. Dad didn’t have enough information to pass on. Just a warning to be careful, to pay attention to anything unusual, and to not cause trouble. That was a first from him.

Harry tensed, sensing someone walking towards them. He turned to see Sullivan Fawley approaching from his side of the table.

“Fawley,” he said, careful of his tone. Dad had gone over the various theories of the attack, including that the target might have been Chief Wix Fawley, Sullivan’s dad. Harry didn’t agree but they had to tread carefully.

“Potter,” Sullivan sat near him and nodded to them in turn, “Longbottom. Malfoy. Lady Ravenclaw.”

Nev nodded back, Draco grunted, but Hermione smiled and said as planned, “How are you doing Sullivan? Is your father okay?”

Fawley nodded stiffly. “He’s fine, of course, shaken and angry.” He stared at Harry. “He’s tried to contact your family but he hasn’t heard from them. He’d be relieved to know your great-grandfather is well.” Fawley turned to Draco. “And your father too, of course.”

“My dad locked down the house,” Harry said, his voice carrying ever so slightly, just enough for the eager ears to hear, “All mail was redirected to Gringotts. I’m sure they’ll respond soon.”

“‘Course,” Fawley

“Oh Harry, that reminds me!” Hermione said, her voice carrying over as well, “I need to write to Centurion Rugnut—he’ll want to hear of our betrothal of course, but maybe I can send along a missive to reach out to your father as well.”

The Blacks were formally aligned with the Goblin Horde but, for various reasons that honestly confused Harry half the time, that alliance had been kept secret. Harry was sure it had been formed during his first year, but, well…he hadn’t been fully briefed on everything that happened that year. He honestly wasn’t sure if he would have ever been briefed on it…until now.

Hermione, however, was well known to be aligned with the Goblin Horde—honestly, it was kind of amazing her relationship with the Horde. So it wouldn’t be a surprise that she would contact them over an attack of her betrothed’s family or that the Horde would be willing to work with the Blacks as a favor to Hermione. Dad was very clear about this part of the plan—that the notion of the Goblin Horde helping them was because of Hermione and not their own, very secret alliance. Harry didn’t know why, but he hoped, when they went home for Mabon, it would become clear.

“I’m sure Hedwig would be willing to make the trip for you,” Harry said. On cue, Hedwig hopped over to Hermione’s shoulder with a little hoot and Hermione rummaged through her backpack for some parchment and a quill.

Fawley cleared his throat roughly. “It would be an immense relief to me, Lady Ravenclaw, to know the Goblins are looking into this attack as well.” He caught Harry’s eye before staring meaningfully at Hermione. “My father was up all night at the Ministry trying to figure out who and how this happened…and…”

“And who the target was,” Draco added icily.

Fawley nodded stiffly. “It was an unusual group to target.”

“Two prominent members of the Grey alliance and a prominent Light leader who leans neutral?” Neville started sarcastically. “Either the Light isn’t happy with your father cozying up to the Grey or…”

“The Dark faction is hoping to clear out the Grey.” Elijah Doge sauntered over. He smirked at Harry before shifting to a soft smile for Hermione and sitting down close to her.

Harry wanted to punch him in the face.

“How are you Lady Ravenclaw?” He bowed his head to her. “It must be troubling to deal with such a crisis in your _potentially_ new family.”

Hermione frowned, catching the not-so-subtle hint that Harry’s family was not yet hers, not yet her responsibility or burden. “It is indeed troubling, Mr. Doge. But I have every confidence in _my_ family to appropriately deal with our enemies. The Houses of Black and Potter have not stood for centuries for naught.”

“And yet yours has stood for millennia,” he countered easily, “even without…active participation.”

Hermione quirked her lips into a semblance of a smile as she folded up her finished letter. She tied the letter around Hedwig’s leg as she said, “I wouldn’t say without participation, considering the fact that my citadel has been the home of one of the greatest wix schools in the world.”

Elijah laughed and Harry still wanted to punch him in the face. “Touché, Lady Ravenclaw.” He leaned closer to her, obviously trying to go for charming but Harry felt it was almost leering as he said, “And what a beautiful citadel it is.”

Sullivan grunted and Harry shared his frustration at the turn of conversation. Trust Elijah to choose now—or really any moment he could—to flirt with Hermione. Before he could redirect the conversation, or call him out for a duel—gods he wish he could—, someone cleared their throat behind Draco.

Everyone shifted their attention immediately to the newcomers, startled, as they were all engrossed in their conversation.

“Fay,” Draco breathed.

She stood defiantly, her shoulders back, chin up, but Harry could see a slight shake in her free hand. Her other hand, however, gripped Blaise’s hand tightly. Harry quickly glanced to Neville, noticing a ghost of a smile. Damn—he didn’t realize Neville actually had a chance to go through his plans.

“It’s almost time for class,” she said. She held her hand out to him. No one said a word about the slight tremble in her fingers. Draco jumped up and grabbed her hand without a second’s hesitation. She smiled widely and in the next moment, Draco had her up against his chest, threading his free hand through her hair and firmly kissing her. Fay made a muffled noise of shock before settling into the kiss. She never let go of Blaise’s or Draco’s hands.

Draco released her a moment later, panting, as the rest of the Great Hall whispered loudly.

“Now really,” Headmistress McGonagall called exasperated.

“Ten points to Gryffindor,” Professor Sinistra countered after a slight smile to the Headmistress, “for being brave.”

Remus—Professor Lupin laughed loudly before adding, “Ten points to Slytherin, for acting swiftly.”

McGonagall scowled at her two professors before pressing her lips into a tight smile. Harry began cheering and the rest of the Great Hall joined in. At least there was some good news for today.

Fay blushed furiously at the attention but smiled as she saw the exuberant smiles of both Draco and Blaise.

“Let’s go to class,” she said, blushing.

Draco quickly grabbed his things. He gave an incredulous glance to Neville before grinning widely at Blaise.

“I’ll catch up,” Neville said, smirking, as Draco and Blaise arranged themselves around Fay and led her out the Great Hall.

Once they left the Great Hall, Harry sighed. “I wish I could have seen her face, Nev.”

Neville grinned widely before it dropped. “I forgot to tell you.” His shoulders tightened for a second before relaxing. “Well, she’s a Gryffindor for a reason—I knew she’d act quickly once she understood.”

Hermione sighed heavily. “Thank all the gods for that.” She frowned suddenly. “Dammit, I think Luna won the bet.”

Harry laughed sharply. “‘Mione, love, you don’t bet against Luna.”

Hermione grinned, kissing Harry quickly on the cheek. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, she said Ravenclaw isn’t going to win the Quidditch cup—do you still not want me to bet against Luna?”

Harry frowned seriously. “She didn’t actually say that, right?”

Sullivan laughed. “You’ll probably still beat us though if it makes you feel better.”

Harry snorted. “Well, when Diggory graduated, your team didn’t stand a chance.”

“Where’s your House pride, Fawley?” Doge snapped bitterly. He was one of the Chasers for the Hufflepuff team. He opened his mouth to continue but Hermione stood up suddenly.

“Nope, enough Quidditch talk.” Hermione started to gather up her things. “Harry, let’s go to class.”

Harry smirked at Doge, before grabbing Hermione’s book bag and sliding it over her shoulder. “‘Course, love, let’s go.”

She looped her free arm around his as they walked out of the Great Hall. Harry glanced back once and was relieved when Doge had moved back to his sister. Neville was talking to Fawley still. Good. Maybe Fawley would say something to Neville that he wouldn’t say in front of him or Draco.

They headed towards the Defense classroom in a roundabout way, hoping for a secluded corridor.

“How was that?” Hermione whispered when they were finally alone.

“You were perfect.” Harry grinned at her before opening a door to a broom closet.

She rolled her eyes and laughed as she walked in. Harry immediately dropped their bags and put strong repelling and privacy charms on the door.

“Class starts in ten minutes,” she said pointedly.

He wrapped his arms around her before settling against the wall. “So I have five minutes to snog my future Lady.”

It was dim but Harry was inches from her face so he could see the pleased smile she had. He could hear it, too, from the sound of her voice as she said, “Well then, carry on.”

They weren’t even late to class so Harry felt he had one moment of victory today.

Professor Lupin was at his desk in front of the class, a knowing smirk on his face. Harry caught sight of a map on his desk and blushed. Okay, so maybe not as circumspect as he was hoping.

“Morning, Professor,” Hermione called cheerily.

“Good morning, Lady Ravenclaw.” Remus shifted his smirk into a genuine smile at her and then turned back to him. “How are you doing Harry?”

Harry frowned and shrugged. “Dad said Grandpa was fine so…” Hermione and he settled into their seats as the rest of the class quieted down, eager for more gossip.

“Your father wouldn’t lie to you,” Remus said gently before turning to the rest of the class. Harry felt their eyes on the back of his neck but ignored it.

“Good morning, class.” Remus stood up from his desk.

“Good morning, Professor,” the class chorused back.

“Today, we are continuing our lesson for this week on the difference between light, grey, dark, and black magic. Can anyone recall from the last lesson why this class is so named?”

Hermione’s hand went straight up but Professor Lupin called on Hannah, who had raised her hand as well — if just a bit more timidly.

“Miss Abbott?”

“At the time of the founders, the class was called Defensive Magic but during Grindelwald’s first rise to power in the early 1900s, the Ministry passed many laws about the classification of magic and the Board of Governors for Hogwarts pressured then Headmaster Phineas Black to rename Defensive Magic to Defense Against the Dark Arts.” Hannah paused, catching her breath and glancing warily to Hermione and Harry before adding, “In 1992, it was changed back to Defensive Magic through the Founder Protocols.”

Harry resisted a smirk. The Founder Protocols were the best.

“Excellent, ten points to Hufflepuff.”

Professor Lupin glanced to Harry and Hermione as well, and Harry let his smirk widen for a moment. He could see Remus resist smirking back.

“Mr. Potter, would you like to share why the name was changed back?”

Harry grinned. “Defense Against the Dark Arts is a misnomer—” He heard various scoffs around him so he added, “At least to those of us who consider the dangers of all classifications of magic. Someone could just as easily kill me with a levitation charm if they decided to levitate me over a cliff.” He heard some laughs at that, so he knew he won over some people.

Hermione continued seamlessly, “We’d be doing the students of Hogwarts a great disservice if we didn’t prepare them to defend themselves against all types of attacks. No one considers lust potions as dark magic but they still take away, at least some of, your free will just as the Imperius curse does. And anyone can buy a lust potion while only a few wix are even capable of casting the Imperius curse!”

Professor Lupin nodded sharply, a frown at the corner of his lips as the rest of the class suddenly quieted at that disturbing thought. Trust Hermione to cut straight to the ugly heart of things.

“Is it even possible to overcome the effects of a lust potion?” A girl almost whispered from the back.

“There’s no way any of us could overpower an Imperius curse!” Macmillan huffed.

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“That is incorrect, Mr. Macmillan,” Professor Lupin corrected gently. “I, myself, as a werewolf, am completely immune to the Imperius.”

Macmillan’s jaw dropped open before snapping shut with a sharp click.

“I have also seen many people throw off an Imperius curse with enough practice.”

Harry studiously avoided his eyes. This past summer Dad, Grandpa, and Uncle Lucius had taught Nev, Draco, and he how to throw off an Imperius curse with Professor Lupin’s help. He had learned that Uncle Lucius had been the victim of when he was a teen and had learned to fight it off under vicious circumstances. He wasn’t about to let them be victims either. It was the most grueling thing in the world and Harry knew that his “order” to cast a tickling charm at Neville wasn’t anywhere close to the orders Uncle Lucius was given.

“Why would anyone practice that?” Justin called out, shocked.

But Susan answered quickly. “Aurors practice it all the time. So they can’t be used by criminals to destroy evidence or gain access to sensitive information.”

Professor Lupin smiled. “Five points to Hufflepuff; that is an excellent example.” He waved his wand and suddenly permission slips were being handed out to each student. “This is a permission slip. I’ve been granted leave by the Ministry to cast the Imperius curse on each student who has a signed permission slip. There is a list of ‘orders’ that I can ask of you, nothing embarrassing or dangerous of course. You have one month to get this slip signed but I suggest you send it home tonight if you are so inclined. A signed permission slip does not automatically mean you must follow through. You can change your mind at any moment.” Professor Lupin paused, staring at each student for a moment. “I’m going to repeat that because it’s important, not just for this, but for…any _other_ situation.” Harry gulped, recognizing the beginning of the tenth or twentieth sex talk he received; he had honestly lost count because it seemed that every relative he ever had wanted to give him, Nev, and Draco the sex talk. “You can change your mind at any time. You can have your parents sign the slip, believing you will want the practice. You can show up to class a month from now, convinced you want the practice. And you can change your mind once your name is called.” Harry felt that Professor Lupin was staring more at the boys than he was the girls when he finished that speech but he wasn’t going to say anything.

Hermione frowned, however, and raised her hand.

“Yes, Lady Ravenclaw?”

“You’re talking about rape.”

Professor Lupin laughed sharply, but it was cold and sad. “I’m talking about consent but yes, there is no consent in rape. It’s also…” He paused, and Harry could see Remus trying to figure out the best way to explain a concept. It was a familiar look growing up when Remus was teaching him before Hogwarts. “Wix are uniquely protected by their magic from…most assaults, physical, emotional, and sexual. Our magic is naturally defensive — likely due to the witch burnings.” He looked around the room. “If you are ever in a situation, even with muggles, that you feel unsafe, let your magic respond and let the Ministry can deal with the Statute of Secrecy — your safety is more important.” He frowned, before glancing at Hermione and another student behind Harry, and added, “But, unfortunately, wix have created potions, such as the lust potions—” Harry turned, curious, to see Megan Jones, a Hufflepuff; he wondered if she was the one to ask about the lust potions. “— which trick your magic into thinking your safe. Which leads us back to today’s lesson, in fact. Occlumency, or the magical art of protecting your mind, is a skill that will aid you in overcoming almost any form of magical influence from lust potions to the Imperius curse. And today, we will begin the first step in mastering the art.”

The class gasped sharply in near unison before devolving into excited whispers.

“But I must warn you,” Professor Lupin called the class back to attention, “In order to master occlumency, you must practice on your own — far above the time I have to teach you. I will give you the framework, but you must dedicate yourself to the practice.”

/// ///

Arcturus glowered at Sirius from his bed. He was _fine_.

He shifted a little in his bed and winced. Sirius raised his eyebrow in a manner so like his father that Arcturus winced again.

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t completely healed just yet.

“Have you heard from Rugnut?” He asked to distract Sirius from watching his every move.

It didn’t work.

“They’re scrying for him but…”

“He’s not likely to stay in Albania,” Arcturus grunted. That slippery little bastard had been in Albania — had he been there the whole time? “We’ve been overestimating him.” Arcturus knew if he was on the run, he wouldn’t go _back_ to a place he had been hiding before and they had known Voldemort had been in Albania when stupid Quirrell had found him.

Sirius sat down heavily in the chair nearest his bed. “I don’t know, Grandfather. I…” Sirius gazed up before sighing.

“Enough with the dramatics boy,” Arcturus snapped. “What’s on your mind?”

Sirius laughed harshly. “Death took me to the Underworld.”

Arcturus choked on his breath and wheezed, “ _What_?”

“Dramatic enough?”

Arcturus glowered at his grandson. That was not something to say lightly. “What happened?”

“I…” Sirius ran his hands through his hair before closing his eyes; Arcturus waited impatiently for him to gather his thoughts. “Death took me…and I’m pretty sure others…not that I know or could recognize anyone…to heal souls that had been magically sacrificed.”

Arcturus winced. “He’s harvesting the magic of innocents then.”

Sirius nodded slowly and added softly, “A lot of souls."

They were silent for a few minutes, both mulling over the information — trying to see the complete puzzle when they only had a few pieces.

“Lucius’s mark?”

“The goblins feel confident that they are close to removing it. It’s…it’s a nasty bit of curse work but they are trying to preserve Voldemort’s magical signature. It would make scrying for him easier.”

At that, Arcturus growled. Who would have thought that splitting his soul would make it _harder_ to scry for the fucking bastard? He was sure it was an unintended benefit of splitting your soul that every time they tried to scry for him, the scrying crystal would whizz about random locations before falling on the bank, defeated. He didn’t have the patience that the goblins seemed to have for that. He was grateful for his viciously precise and determined allies.

“He must already have followers,” Arcturus said suddenly. A disembodied spirit only had so much power on this plane — and definitely not enough to throw a cutting curse.

“If it was Voldemort that attacked you. If you were, in fact, the target.” Sirius glowered at the corner of his bed. “There are too many variables.”

“Then let’s take them away.” Arcturus shifted up in his bed, wincing, but managing it without Sirius’s immediate offer to help.

“Where should we start?”

“Let’s assume I was the target,” Arcturus started slowly.

“And that they wanted your blood, but not you dead.”

Arcturus smiled wanly. “Worst-case scenario then.” Arcturus steepled his fingers together. “There are only a few rituals or potions that would call for blood, forcibly taken.”

“Resurrection ritual being one of them,” Sirius muttered darkly.

“Full body and mind control is another,” Arcturus added. He felt that was more likely. “I’m not Voldemort’s greatest enemy…” He paused for adding softly, “I’m not the child who supposedly vanquished him.”

Sirius growled. “You don’t think he…” 

“Harry is in the safest place on Earth…besides Ravenswood. Maybe even…” He didn’t complete that. Ravenswood had fatal ward triggers in place; he didn’t think even Hogwarts had that…but he might suggest it to his future great-granddaughter-in-law. She was a practical girl — she would see the benefit of it.

Sirius pressed his lips together tightly. “Let’s assume it’s Voldemort. Let’s assume he wanted your blood for the Imperius potion. What would he gain by controlling you?”

“Access to Harry,” Arcturus responded immediately.

“But then I would be a better choice.”

“You weren’t there that day, but you were supposed to be. Maybe they just took the opportunity.”

Sirius shook his head. “That doesn’t feel right. Why rush? It must have taken time to plan it all…why…” Sirius frowned. “Let’s assume Malfoy was the target then. Same plan. What would they gain access to by getting control of—”

Sirius stopped sharply and locked eyes with Arcturus. They both whispered, horrified, at the same time, “The diary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg hello, so sorry for the ridiculously long wait. I'm hoping that I can post every two weeks now. *fingers crossed* 
> 
> Also, check out The Black Book Universe for a Fay POV. 
> 
> Also, also, I love doing these little snippets, so if you have any scenes that haven't been addressed in the fic or you want scenes from different POVs, let me know!


	6. Foolish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Goblins have a decision to make.

“I have good news and bad news,” Sirius started blandly once Narcissa and Lucius were seated comfortably in the study.

“Bad news first,” Narcissa said as she reached for her husband’s hand.

“Grandfather and I think Lucius was the target.” Sirius ignored Narcissa’s sharp hiss. “We think they were going after the diary.”

Lucius hummed in agreement, but the slight curl in his lip betrayed his nonchalant response. “If the goblins research is anything to go by, it would have been in his first horcrux—” His lips twisted even more as Lucius ground his teeth. “And therefore, the biggest piece of his soul.”

Narcissa squeezed Lucius’s hand. “And the good news?”

Sirius grinned widely, relaxing in his chair. “Remus managed to mirror call me in-between classes. It seems Draco and Blaise were finally able to woo Fay—” He shrugged, “Or something to that effect. Draco will probably call you tonight requesting a contract. Apparently, he snogged her in the Great Hall. Remus gave him ten points.”

Narcissa half-laughed, half-sobbed, and Lucius shot him a grateful look. The news wasn’t pleasant—that her husband had been targeted by Voldemort—but the fact that Draco was happy, in love, and finally going to be able to sign a contract for the triad Draco had always wanted…well, that made it a little easier.

“Are you picking up the children for Mabon or is it Augusta’s turn?” Narcissa asked after a moment.

Sirius shook his head. “I’m going. Hermione is coming as well, so…”

“Should we invite Miss Dunbar and Mr. Zabini then?” Lucius asked. “After all…”

Sirius was shaking his head, cutting him off. “No. I think…” He held his head in his hands. He didn’t really want this but Grandfather felt that it would be prudent. “Grandfather thinks it’s time to bring the boys into our discussions.”

Lucius’s eyebrows rose. “Not another Gathering?”

“No, nothing like that but—”

“They’re only children Sirius!” Narcissa moved to stand, “How could Cousin Arcturus even—”

Sirius raised his hands, begging her to sit back down. He agreed, technically, but… “They are sixteen Narcissa. They’re almost adults and we…we can’t afford to coddle them.” Sirius glanced pointedly at Lucius. “It could be to their detriment to withhold information.”

Narcissa hissed but sat back down.

“And Lady Ravenclaw?” Lucius prompted.

“Their betrothal contract has been ready for years. They’ll sign it and she’ll be included in the discussion. She is an adult.”

“Barely,” Narcissa muttered.

Sirius smiled wanly. “She’s also the brightest witch of her generation and…” His smile faded. “We’ve been hitting dead ends.”

“You’re going to tell them about the horcruxes?” Lucius asked, his eyebrows shooting up once more.

“We’re going to tell them _everything_.”

///

Harry felt oddly morose the next morning. He had packed up his day bag and brought it down to breakfast, knowing that his dad would be picking him, Draco, Neville, and Hermione for Mabon.

They were still one of the few groups of students to go home for all holidays. Hermione and he recognized the traditional holidays in the school year by canceling afternoon classes and morning classes the next day — a small concession in some of his aunts’ and uncles’ eyes but nothing too disruptive for the non-religious either. There were events held by professors who followed the old ways and students were allowed to come and go as they pleased. Or, like the Blacks, leave the castle to be with their family during the holidays. Most students stayed at the castle for most holidays — it was really only Beltane and Samhain that more students left to be with family.

Hermione and Isobel, and in recent years, Blaise, were always invited and most of the time came over for the holidays. There was always an odd holiday where one or all of them felt pressure from school work to skip but this was the first one where only Hermione was invited.

It was…nerve-wracking, Harry decided.

Isobel and Blaise took no offense, except for curious and worried looks. Fay had been disappointed and worried that it was because the family didn’t like her, Harry had learned from a late-night mirror call between him, Nev, and Draco. Draco ordered them both to reassure her.

But Harry knew it wasn’t that. The look on his dad’s face when he told him the new plan said…it was family business. And only Hermione was considered family at this point…or would be in a few hours.

Draco was at the Gryffindor table with Blaise, Neville, and Fay, much to the dismay of Weasley. It had been years since they had any actual issues with Weasley but he was still a bit narrow-minded in Harry’s opinion. His sister, Ginny, was better — almost too Gryffindorish for Harry, but Aunt Cedrella was pleased with her. He wondered if she was going to come over for Mabon…she and the twins made an appearance every once in a while.

Harry shook his head and focused on his breakfast. He was going to get answers soon enough.

“Hermione?”

Harry looked across the table to where Hermione and Isobel were sitting. Isobel had a worried look on her face as she called Hermione’s name again. “Hermione, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” she said, shaking her head a little, “I’m fine. Just…” She held a hand to her head. “I think…I think I should stay here. Harry…”

Harry frowned. They were going to sign their betrothal contract today. “Hermione—”

She cut him off. “That’ll be alright, won’t it?” She shook her head again. “I don’t feel so good. Maybe…”

Harry reached across the table but Hermione leaned away from him. Harry felt cold at the action. “What’s going on, love? Are you sick?”

She winced. “Maybe? I don’t…” She shook her head again, wincing. “My head hurts.” She reached up to hold her head in both her hands and Harry felt his stomach drop as soon as he registered what he was seeing.

Harry choked on air. “Hermione!” He jumped over the table, nearly falling on top of her in his haste to get to her.

“Merlin, Harry! What’s wrong?” Isobel scrambled out of his way.

“Remus!” Harry shouted. The entire hall went silent but Harry wasn’t paying attention anymore. “Hermione, look at me.” His hands shook as he forced her to meet his gaze. “What did you eat? What did you drink?”

Hermione half-heartedly pushed him away. “Merlin, Harry, you’re embarrassing me. What—” She stopped, swallowed, and seemed to notice for the first time that her betrothal bracelet was glowing. “Why is my bracelet glowing?”

Remus arrived, took one look at her bracelet, and started to scan the food at their table. “Everyone, stop eating and drinking at once.” Goblets and cutlery clattered loudly on every table in the Great Hall.

“St. Mungos?” Headmistress McGonagall asked as Madam Pomfrey started to scan Hermione.

At those words, Hermione’s eyes widened and her wild gaze settled on Harry. Harry put on a brave face for her and cooed softly, “Don’t worry sweetheart. You’re safe with me. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.”

“Let’s take her to the infirmary,” Remus said, “Mild obedience potion, but nothing lethal.”

Harry shuddered, his magic flexing at the threat. Not lethal but horrifying to think about.

“Filius?” McGonagall wordlessly conveyed her needs as he just nodded sharply. Harry saw him shoo some of his classmates away from their former seats and put their section of the table in stasis.

Harry took Hermione’s hand and formed a human shield around her as Remus led the four of them out of the silent Great Hall.

Hermione’s hand tightened and loosened around his the entire time they walked to the infirmary but Harry didn’t let go…or let her go until she was seated in an infirmary bed. Madam Pomfrey hurried toward her office stores after she ran a diagnostic on Hermione. Hermione looked so small at that moment. She wrapped her arms around her knees and was viciously biting her lip. Harry had never known her to be so quiet.

“Miss Ravenclaw?” McGonagall began softly.

“Harry, go away!” She shook her head violently as tears fell down her eyes.

Everyone jumped in shock at her words but Harry just growled.

“So the person who potioned you doesn’t like me,” Harry crossed his arms in an effort to keep his magic from lashing out, “Good. I hate them too.”

“Perhaps, Miss Ravenclaw, you should tell us everything you feel right now,” Remus said gently. “Even if…it’s not what you want.” Hermione’s wide eyes met Remus’s, fearful and worried. “We won’t let you out of our sight until the potion has been neutralized so stop fighting it for the moment and perhaps it will give us clues as to what the perpetrator wanted from you.”

Hermione settled her gaze on Harry for a long moment before turning back to Remus.

“I want to stay here. I don’t want Harry. I don’t want to leave Hogwarts today. I want to go to the library. I want to study for Magical Ethics class.” The words tumbled from her lips in a mad rush. “I don’t feel good. So I’m not going to go with Harry. I’m going to stay here and go to the library and Harry is going to leave me alone. I don’t—”

Hermione bit her lip again and shook her head.

“That was very good Hermione,” Remus said gently. “If you don’t feel good, perhaps you should stay in the infirmary and Madam Pomfrey is going to get you some medicine.” He turned to Harry and McGonagall and whispered, “Stay here.”

Harry glared at him. He wasn’t leaving Hermione’s side…maybe ever at this point. She was right in front of him. Right. In. Front. Of. Him. And she was drugged. He wasn’t going to take his eyes off of her for a second.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Remus follow Madam Pomfrey to her potion stores. Hopefully, they would have a cure or else they were just going to have to wait for Hermione’s magic to burn through the potion. She seemed to already be doing that…but it could also be the bracelet’s doing.

“Go away Potter,” she said, “I don’t want you here.”

“Whoever gave you that potion is an enemy of my house,” Harry replied flatly. He wasn’t bothered much by what she was saying, except for the fact that the words seemed to be painfully pulled out of her. He was going to kill anyone who caused Hermione pain.

“I don’t feel good,” she said again, “I want to stay at Hogwarts today.”

Madam Pomfrey appeared at that moment when a purple potion. “That is a good idea, Miss Ravenclaw. And I have some medicine for you as well.”

Hermione eyed the nurse and Harry’s heart stuttered. Were they going to have to force her to drink the potion? For a moment, everyone was silent. Hermione shifted, clenching her fists and crossing her arms — Harry felt weak in the knees at what they were about to do — but then she leaned forward…and opened her mouth. Quicker than Harry thought possible for Madam Pomfrey, she uncorked the potion and carefully spilled it into Hermione’s open mouth. Hermione swallowed quickly, choking at her haste. She gagged once but kept her mouth tightly closed.

After a minute, she relaxed by degrees, her breathing slowed and her fists opened slowly.

“Miss Ravenclaw, how are you feeling?” Madam Pomfrey asked. 

She promptly burst into tears.

Harry took a hesitant step forward, unsure how she would react, when she reached a hand out and said, “Harry.” He leaped forward and crawled onto the bed, wrapping his arms tight around her and pulling her to his chest.

“I want to go home,” she cried. “I don’t want to be here.”

Harry held her tighter. “Do you want to go to the Keep? I can call Doxy.”

She shook her head. “Ravenswood. I want to go to Ravenswood.”

“She’s clear,” Madam Pomfrey whispered as she tucked away her wand. Harry didn’t even notice her checking Hermione over. “The potion has been neutralized.”

Harry turned to Remus.

“I'll tell your father what happened if you don’t cross paths. I think Filius already called the Aurors to investigate.”

They both turned to McGonagall and she nodded. “Yes, they are arriving by the floo in my office now. Your father is walking up from the front gates now if you want to wait.”

Harry shook his head. “No, we’ll leave now. Doxy!”

Doxy appeared with a pop on the bed. She gently patted Hermione’s knee before taking Harry’s hand. “Poor Lady. Doxy takes you home now.”

Harry felt the uncomfortable squeeze of apparition before he landed in his bed at Ravenswood. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Doxy, can you let my mum and everyone know what happened?”

Doxy nodded and popped away.

Harry laid down on his bed, shifting Hermione in his arms until they were facing each other. Hermione was focused on his tie, her tears slowly drying on her cheeks.

Her breath hitched as she asked, “My betrothal bracelet can tell if I’ve been potioned?”

“All Gryffindor jewelry has certain safety measures in place,” Harry murmured.

Hermione took a deep breath, closing her eyes, then she said, “We’re signing our betrothal contract today.”

Harry’s stomach dropped. Did she not want to sign it anymore? Harry choked, “Yes.”

Hermione shuddered. “What…what if…the person…wanted to prevent that?”

Harry frowned. There were plenty of legal ways to challenge their betrothal. The simplest being to ask Hermione out on a date. The worst was to challenge Harry’s suitability as a suitor in a formal duel. Why would they go this route…with an illegal use of a potion?

“I want a blood contract.”

Harry nearly jumped at her words. “Hermione! We—”

She shook her head, staring pleadingly into his eyes. “I’ve been looking into them since our last Ethics class. There are some that can prevent us from cheating on each other by neutralizing lust potions. What if…”

Hermione shuddered again and Harry wrapped her tightly in his arms. She tucked her head into his chest and said, “What if they were going to potion me again? What if they started out with a mild obedience potion hoping no one would think twice about me wanting to study in the library?”

Harry shuddered this time. His worst fear had always been the Imperius curse being used on him…now it was replaced with the fear of the Imperius curse being used on Hermione.

He thought of an old betrothal ritual he read years ago, as part of his summer lessons with Cousin Cygnus. He’d have to claim his title, something he hadn’t planned to do for another year, but it would protect both of them from almost all behavioral potions and curses.

“I have a contract in mind,” Harry whispered.

///

This was not his week, Sirius decided as he listened to Minerva describe the recent events to him and the Aurors. Shacklebolt was in charge once again; Sirius wondered if he was just going to be the personal auror service for his family for now on.

“Hold on.” Sirius raised a hand as the Aurors moved to dismantle the stasis charm. “Has anyone informed the Horde?” Sirius turned to Flitwick, just in time to see the blood drain from his face. Well, at least someone understood the implications of what happened this morning.

“I’ll call them now,” he squeaked, before running down the length of the empty Great Hall.

A disgruntled auror asked, “Why the hell do we need goblins? A student was potioned— I don’t even know why I’m here, to be frank. This happens all the time—”

The Grey Lady hissed at him. Sirius was glad he didn’t have to do that himself—it would probably be considered unseemly by this grandmother.

“The Lady Hermione Jean Dagworth-Granger, Countess of Ravenclaw, Baroness of the Ancient House of Dagworth-Granger was potioned with an obedience draught,” Sirius drawled. “Or have you forgotten that she claimed her titles at fifteen? Have you forgotten that she is a member of the House of Lords?”

“Have you forgotten that Clan Ravenclaw is an ancient ally of the Goblin Horde?” Centurion Rugnut entered the Great Hall with a small contingent of goblin warriors. “Heir Black, has someone declared war on my ally?”

The disgruntled auror choked on air. Sirius fought back the urge to roll his eyes—at least now he understood the seriousness of the situation.

“That remains to be seen,” Sirius pinned him with an intense look, hinting that he was certainly willing to declare war. “Master Flitwick performed the stasis charm so the scene is still undisturbed for your analysis.”

“So he told me.” Rugnut gestured to the goblins behind him and they all jumped forward to work the scene. Several had long metal-wrought staves in their hands, shining gems on one end and wickedly sharp points on the other. “Let us see if it was a foolish child or a foolish enemy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Sort of in the groove of things. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Also, I'm re-reading Harry Potter and I have a question for y'all. 
> 
> Backstory: At the end of Chamber of Secrets, Dumbledore says something to the effect of "There is a piece of Voldemort in you, Harry." Seriously.
> 
> So I'm of two minds on this issue: 1) Dumbledore is more evil/grey than canon-focused people say. (He had 4 years to figure out a way to get rid of the horcrux in Harry and his best plan was "let him kill you" ?!) 2) Hermione is actually the smartest person in this wixen world because she apparently is the only one to figure out that a giant snake is the monster of Slytherin and if she had 4 years to figure it out, she would have come up with a better plan.
> 
> What do you think?


	7. Clever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mabon is a time to find balance.

A clever enemy, Sirius decided, after the goblins finished analyzing the scene. An obedience potion delivered via elf magic with instructions spelled into the potion at the last step, rather than tied to force someone obedient to a person’s magical signature. And there wasn’t enough potion left to even attempt to gather a magical signature from the spells worked into the potion.

Clever.

Cleverer still, though, that Remus thought to see what Hermione was directed to do. He had gone to the library after Harry and Hermione left for Ravenswood, but besides Madam Pince and few students grabbing a book before classes, there was nothing. No clue as to what would have happened if Hermione had gone to the library alone.

Unless it was a child, a student…but what could they want? What was their purpose?

Sirius apparated home to find it in its usual flurry of activity. Rose, bouncing Cephee on one hip, stopped briefly to kiss him on the cheek.

“Harry’s in your office,” she said as she walked to the kitchen.

One thing after another. Would he ever get a break?

Sirius walked to his office, took a deep breath outside the door, and prepared for the next battle.

Harry was sitting in his favorite armchair near the fireplace, sprawled out, just as he used to do as a child, with a book in his hand. Sirius missed the days when the books were nursery rhymes or muggle comic books. This book was decidedly not a muggle children’s story. It looked too old, frayed at the seams, and with a decidedly magical aura clinging to the pages.

Harry straightened up in his chair. “Dad—what—”

Sirius raised a hand. “The goblins analyzed the scene but they couldn’t trace it back to any single person or creature.” He settled in the chair opposite Harry. “What are you reading?” The title was worn off the spine.

Harry’s face flushed but he spoke with confidence. “It’s a book about magical bonds Cousin Cygnus made us read for summer lessons a few years back.” Harry marked a page in the book before handing it to him.

Sirius thumbed through the pages, landing on the one Harry had marked: _Magicis Fidem_. “Mhmm.” Sirius waited for the obvious explanation. He hadn’t read the ritual himself but he had an idea of where this was going.

“Hermione’s been looking into blood contracts for our betrothal,” Harry whispered, “She…she’s worried that someone might…might have planned to potion her again…” Harry clenched his fists. “Or worse.”

Sirius flinched. _Or worse._ What was the potioner’s plan? Would they attack again? Hermione clearly feared so. Sirius read through the betrothal ritual. Old fashioned, magically difficult, but surprisingly light given its use of blood — binding their blood and magic to each other, to always be loyal to each other. Some would say it was as good as a marriage bond — and it was definitely designed to be.

He thought he had another year before he had to think of his oldest as married.

Sirius looked to Harry, who has chewing his lip. Something Lily used to do that when she was nervous about something. Sirius smiled wistfully, imaging what Lily or James would have said if they were here.

With Lily, it would be logistics first. Only magically mature wix could perform this ritual.

“You’ll have to claim your title.” The only way Harry would be considered a magically mature wix.

Harry nodded. “I know it’s not what we planned but…I’m ready for it.”

“‘Course you are, but…” Sirius wondered if James would’ve thought of the consequences. Certainly not when they were young but now, as a father of sixteen years? His stomach clenched and heart hurt in the distant sort of way it always did when he thought of all James should have been able to do.

“Dad?”

Sirius blinked back tears. He would be Dad for both of them. “Some people will see it as good as a marriage bond, lad, are you ready for that? Is Hermione?”

“Well,” Harry frowned, “I mean, I always knew I was going to marry her. So…I’ve been ready for that for years now.”

“And Hermione?”

“I think so,” Harry whispered. “I know she’s scared of…”

“Her betrothal bracelet worked just as it should,” Sirius interrupted gently, “You guys don’t have to do this because you’re afraid. That’s…that’s the worst reason to do it.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Harry and Sirius jumped at Hermione’s firm voice from the door. She frowned, well, more like pouted, before grimacing.

“Sorry, I was looking for Harry and overheard you two talking.”

“Come in,” Sirius waved her in. “This concerns you too.”

Harry held out his hand and Hermione sat primly on his lap in the cozy armchair. Sirius didn’t bother hiding his grin at the two of them. They fit together and they knew it.

“Magicis Fidem?” Sirius raised an eyebrow.

“It’s one of the few blood betrothals that’s notorious for still being light magic,” Hermione began. Sirius had a feeling she had already made a list of talking points to defend their choice. “It is a very strong betrothal ritual that neutralizes all lust potions and behavioral spells, only excepting the Imperius curse. And—”

“And it’s as good as a marriage bond in some people’s eyes,” Sirius interrupted. Were they ready to be married?

“It’s not a marriage bond.” Hermione frowned.

“Hermione,” Sirius sighed. She was technically right but… “It’s also the only _light_ blood contract that can _only_ be broken in ritual.” Or death, but really he didn’t want to think about that.

“So?” She crossed her arms.

Sirius snorted but Harry squeezed her into his side. “So, people will talk,” Harry said, “But anyone who knows anything about the Potters would’ve known that I was always going to marry Hermione. And I am.” Harry looked up to Hermione and grinned. “We are. Not until we have our NEWTs of course, but until then, we’ll have this betrothal bond until we can replace it with our marriage bond.”

Hermione smiled widely. “Your future Lady.”

Harry wrapped Hermione in his arms and nuzzled her neck, grinning just like James had done when Lily finally agreed to marry him.

Sirius laughed instead of cried. Damn the Potters for always making him feel turned inside out.

“Alright!” He raised his hands in defeat. “You’ve convinced me. Now, you have to convince Hermione’s family. When are we doing this?”

“Today,” they both said resolutely.

Well, fuck.

/// ///

Arcturus couldn’t stop smiling.

A blood contract. The _Magicis Fidem_ betrothal ritual. He had done the same with Melania so many years ago. He glanced over to where she stood in the West position, pleased and honored they were given places in the circle. He could already see her planning their wedding — during Ostara, most likely, to continue the balance of energy from today. He was sure Mabon wasn’t exactly the first holiday anyone would think of to do a betrothal ritual, but he saw the unique blessing it would give to their union. Today the masculine and feminine energies were in balance and in this ritual, this balance will be highlighted. Partners, equals, in all aspects of their life.

Arcturus glanced at Rose and Sirius, who were also in the circle at the North and South points, respectively. Hermione’s family stood outside the circle, unfortunately; as muggles, or squibs, this high-level ritual magic was beyond them. Almost everyone else in the family was here, outside the circle, including the twins who were being entertained by Tonks and Remus.

Hermione and Harry linked blood-slicked hands in the center of Ara’s circle and began to chant the circle opener.

Arcturus slashed his own palm with his athame and allowed his blood to drip on the Eastern point; everyone followed in clockwise order.

They began their own chant, repeating, “Tenemus circulum. Honoramus animae.”

Hermione’s and Harry’s voices carried over theirs, rising and falling in rhythm with the beat of their two hearts. Their magic pulsed out of them in tune, spreading out from the circle.

Together they said, “Copulare nostris animabus. Copulare nostris cordibus. Copulare nostris magicibus.”

Magic swelled between them, encircling, entwining them with ribbons of light for those fortunate enough to see their magical bond. He grinned, smug, at how natural the bond was at it began to weave and form around them. Soulmate sight indeed.

In unison, Harry and Hermione completed the ritual. “Usque in finem, nostris animabus, nostris cordibus, nostris magicibus, erimus alter. Sic fiat semper.”

As one, everyone spoke the closing words, “This circle is open but unbroken and so it shall remain by the blessings of magic.”

Hermione and Harry grinned widely at each other and shared a quick, deserving kiss. Arcturus joined the applause that had started.

He couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate Mabon. Too bad they had other, more demanding matters to deal with.

Later, though, after dinner had been enjoyed and the young ones were put to bed, the family, Hermione included, gathered in the formal dining room.

Various conversations took place while the children—no, he could no longer call them children, could he? Not when he was bringing them into a war. The teenagers, the young wix, the young adults who were being called upon to help them fight a war that started decades before they were born.

Children. They would always be his children, just as Sirius would be. He would still shield them the best he could, and…telling them was a shield in and of itself. Better for them to know than for them to stumble upon it without support. It was the argument he used to convince Augusta…that and the fact that Draco and Harry would have immediately told Neville. She wasn’t pleased but she was a Gryffindor, so Arcturus thought she knew better than most how fool-hardy young teenagers could be.

So they explained it all. All the times Sirius met Death. The horcrux in the locket. Professor Quirrell and the fragment of Voldemort’s soul that had been caught by Death itself. The remaining four that has turned to the remaining three that has turned into the remaining two.

Hermione, his newest great-granddaughter-in-law, was taking this rather calmly. Harry, on the other hand, was not.

“Are you…are—” His voice was soft but shaking with restrained rage. “Are you saying there’s a prophecy…and that’s…that’s why he went after…that he killed my parents because of me?”

Hermione put a hand on his knee and squeezed.

Arcturus felt a little guilty. He honestly hadn’t even thought of the prophecy since that night Sirius came home to share the sordid details. He was a little distracted and gleeful, riding a little high from the death of Dumbledore, which crashed with the continued survival of Riddle. The prophecy…well, it was in the Department of Mysteries to be sure and it seemed rather foolhardy to risk exposure of their plans to go pick up a prophecy that likely added little to no value…if it even existed.

He still remembered the words Dumbledore had intoned with false gravity, “Fate is guiding Harry and I on a difficult path.” Had he dismissed the actual importance of the prophecy based on the false importance Dumbledore had given himself?

Foolish. How dare he be so foolish. He glanced over to Sirius, who looked devastated at the inevitable path his son took. Of course, Harry would take the blame for Riddle’s deranged actions.

“Your parents,” Rose said after a few moments, swallowing back tears, “died fighting a monster, died protecting you from a monster. It is not your fault.” Rose stood and knelt beside Harry, cupping his face when he had turned from her. “Harry, darling, it’s the honor of any parent to die protecting their child. You—I would happily die for any of my children.”

“Mum—” Harry stuttered to a stop.

She stood and pressed a kiss to his hair before sitting back down next to Sirius. Sirius squeezed her into his side, kissing her cheek, and murmuring something too low to be heard properly.

“Do we know the words of the prophecy? Or if it was an actual, true prophecy?” Draco asked.

Sirius winced, catching his eye. Maybe they should have talked to the children sooner. “We were led to believe that Dumbledore witnessed the prophecy himself but…no, I, we—”

“We didn’t look into it, given Dumbledore’s history,” Arcturus finished flatly. They were fools. Blinded by — Melania squeezed his hand. He looked up to her soft smile. She knew he was berating himself for this slip and she was forgiving him so he could forgive himself. He raised her hand to his lips. They would rectify this mistake and move on. “We can go to the Hall of Prophecies tomorrow and see if it is true.”

There was silence for a moment and Arcturus took the time to look at the four children. Neville was still, grave and silent. Draco was looking at his parents as if seeing them for the first time. He knew they all knew, that Abraxas was an abusive man but it was clear that Draco had been shielded from the specifics of the abuse until now.

“Death told you to bring them the remaining four? Back in our first year?” Hermione spoke slowly, her gaze on Sirius.

Sirius nodded.

“And then you found the diary, that was given to Lord Malfoy’s father by Riddle himself in our second year.”

“We did,” Lucius said, and added softly, “You may call me Uncle Lucius, as Harry and Neville do if you wish.”

Hermione nodded, but her gaze seemed unfocused on the present conversation.

“And then, you said, that goblins have been scrying for more—for the other, well, now three pieces, but it hasn’t been working since—”

“It always lands back on the bank,” Sirius finished for her.

“But,” Neville started slowly, flickering his gaze between Hermione and Sirius, “You said that Death said one of them is killing for life so…”

Sirius nodded. “One of them, one of the horcruxes is gaining power. Probably needs to find a body somehow but we don’t…” Sirius sighed. “We don’t know how yet.”

There was silence at that. There was still much they didn’t know. What the three other horcruxes were, where to find them, where to find the horcrux that was killing for life — and how was it killing for life? Did Riddle have followers, loyal followers still around? Arcturus thought of Snape, who had disappeared on that night in 1991 — where did he go? Was he loyal to himself or did he turn back to the only master he had left?

Hermione turned to Alphard. “You said, from your research, that Tom Riddle was a half-blood? And Head Boy at Hogwarts?”

Alphard snorted, a wry grin on his face. “Research is a loose term for not realizing I went to school with a psychopath but yes.”

“He was a year below me,” Lucretia added softly and Arcturus shuddered, realizing all over again that his children had shared a common room with that monster. “He was always polite, smart, and charismatic. I remember…” She winced. “I remember him asking the prefects about wizarding customs and books on it all. He…I wouldn’t have known, really, that he was raised with Muggles if I hadn’t overheard that.”

Hermione had a curious look in her eyes. “Did he have money? To…to buy books and such?”

Alphard frowned and shared a look with Lucretia and himself. “I don’t know. He didn’t…he wasn’t wealthy by any means but…”

The look on her face shifted, a soft purse in her lips as if she was sorting through something.

“Do we know where he lived? With who?”

Lucretia sighed; research on the history of Tom Riddle was fraught with difficulties. “No — no one who would have known him well is willing to share and, from what we can gather, he never spoke of his life outside of Hogwarts with any casual acquaintance.”

Alphard leaned forward, watching Hermione, studying her.

Hermione, however, was looking over his shoulder, her gaze unfocused. “Madam Pince told me that the Hogwarts Library hadn’t been updated since Phineas Black was headmaster. It was part of the reforms we made as Hogwarts Founders.”

Arcturus was relieved that everyone looked as puzzled as he.

Thankfully, this seemed to be a normal occurrence for her as she continued unprompted. “Which means, that the library selection of our first year still matched the library selection Riddle had.”

No one had time to voice the obvious question — “Why did that matter?” — because Hermione was answering it already with a wry grin, as she glanced around.

“The Dagworth-Granger library hadn’t been updated for nearly a century by the time I got my hands on it and I had hoped that the Hogwarts library would be better stocked on wix customs and cultures than it actually was.”

No one seemed to know where she was going but Hermione didn’t bother to explain. She turned back to Sirius. “The goblins — have they been using a pendulum to scry or scrying crystal?”

Arcturus blinked, struggling to keep up with her line of thinking. He hadn’t thought to question the goblins methods—they had magic different and beyond their own.

“Pendulum, I believe,” Sirius said slowly, “But maybe both? I haven’t asked.”

Hermione frowned. “We should ask. We should…” She paused, blushing, before straightening in her chair and saying, “Well. Maybe their scrying _is_ working. And it isn’t landing _back_ on the bank but landing _on the bank_.”

Arcturus’s mouth dropped. He still had no idea how she had gotten there but…

“Why do you think so?” Alphard asked before anyone else could.

Hermione blushed. “Well, besides Hogwarts, Gringotts is one of the most magical places on Earth—” Several people, Lucius and Arcturus included, spluttered in swift denial at that. But Hermione merely grinned shyly. “At least for a muggle-raised wix, that is. And he didn’t have an ancestral estate to visit as I did. So, I imagine Gringotts seemed even more impressive to him then.”

Lucius frowned. “But he did hide one of his horcruxes at an ancestral estate, not his own but…”

“But an estate to someone close to him,” Hermione added, “And I imagine, without visiting Ravenswood, that Malfoy Manor was the most impressive magical estate he ever had access to.”

Draco snorted indignantly. “Malfoy Manor is a _very_ impressive magical estate, thank you very much. Just because we aren’t self-sacrificial, like the Blacks, doesn’t mean our estate isn’t magically magnificent.”

Lucius shared a smile with his son while everyone laughed. Hermione smiled apologetically.

“You read the same books he did,” Rose said suddenly, eyes wide in equal parts awe and pride, “You read the same books on wix customs and wizarding history as he did so you know that he would have seen Gringotts as a magically significant place.”

Hermione smiled wanly and nodded. “To the muggle raised, Hogwarts and Gringotts are the most magical places we are introduced to.” She paused, and for the first time, she seemed hesitant to speak. “Also I…When I claimed the wards at Hogwarts, anything with black magic was ejected from the grounds.”

Everyone froze, staring at her in abject horror. _Hogwarts._ He put one of those things at _Hogwarts_. Arcturus mouth dropped.

“Where were these things ejected?” Sirius whispered.

Hermione shook her head. “Most likely right outside the boundaries but…it was two people and one object. They aren’t there anymore, obviously.”

“What do you mean obviously?” Alphard asked before Arcturus could get a chance.

Suddenly he was quite furious with himself for not bringing the children into this conversation earlier. What had Hermione figured out in a few minutes that had taken them years to understand?

“Well, when I first claimed the wards, I was…connected, so to speak, with many of the ancestors who also held the wards.”

Arcturus’s mouth dropped. “That…that would mean…”

Hermione nodded, her cheeks flush. “Apparently, it was a long-held tradition that at the end of the Head of House’s life to sacrifice oneself for the wards. It ended with Rowena, of course. And actually—” Her face and neck turned red as she spoke softly, “Ara might have gotten the idea of self-sacrificial wards from one of my ancestors if my many greats grandmother Rodina is to be believed.”

Sirius laughed loudly, breaking the stunned silence. “And here we all just thought we were just a touch crazy.”

Everyone laughed and Rose snorted. “You still are.”

“So,” Alphard sat up, eager, “Your ancestors have been connected to the wards and, and watching over the castle so to speak.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ve gone back to the ward circle a few times to talk to them. We’ve decided that two wix and a highly magical but black object was ejected when I reclaimed the wards. Helena has searched the surrounding grounds and the object is no longer there.”

“And you think it was a horcrux,” Lucretia said.

“Yes.” She faltered, “Well, a strong _maybe_. I think…I think if we find a horcrux in Gringotts then definitely. It would fit with…”

“Who he was,” Lucius leaned forward, the only shift in his body that betrayed his excitement. “An estate, a school, a bank — all highly magical places he had access to. But…” He shook his head. “Would he really be so foolish to put such an obviously black magic object in a Gringotts vault?”

Harry frowned. “Why is that foolish?”

Hermione squeezed his hand, a smile playing on her lips. “The Goblin Horde specifically have a clause voiding the proprietorship of a vault ‘containing any magic or magical item that by nature or design would offend Lady Hecate herself,’ Hermione quoted a line from a Gringotts contract that Arcturus doubted most people even read. “And the Goblin Horde has on several occasions denounced all black magic as magic that would offend Lady Hecate.”

Arcturus laughed, it burst out from him before he could help it really. This little witch was _brilliant_. Everyone looked at him, startled and amused, waiting for an explanation.

“But Riddle never received a proper education on the Goblin Horde,” Arcturus said after he could settle his joy to a smug smile, “Which means, as Hermione has already deduced, he likely viewed Gringotts as just a bank.”

“Like a muggle bank, most likely,” Hermione added, “And muggle banks would never allow anyone to search the contents of a vault without proper legal intervention.”

Harry grinned wryly. “So what you’re saying is that he’s an idiot for putting a horcrux in one of the easiest places to find it.”

Sirius laughed sharply as Hermione shrugged. “Well, not _easy_. We still don’t know which vault to look in it for.”

“Bellatrix,” Narcissa said suddenly. “She—” Narcissa looked to Augusta and Neville, grimacing for a second, before turning towards him.

He nodded and quickly spoke to ease Narcissa’s distress.

“Let’s go inform our friends that they were very wise indeed to ally themselves with the Ravenclaw clan.”

Hermione flushed under the praise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something to distract you from today.
> 
> Also, holy shit this took so long to write because I had to work through Hermione's thought process 1000 times before it felt believable.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed <3


	8. Propriety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione tie up loose ends.

Harry trembled with a terrible kind of energy. Hermione shifted in her sleep, turning over to him and snuggling back into his side. He tried to relax, knowing his anxious energy would manifest into anxious magic which would feed into their bond and wake her up.

He took some slow, deep breaths. It would be okay. They would go to the Hall of Prophecies and learn that there was no prophecy and Dumbledore was just talking out of his ass.

He yelped as a finger jabbed him in the ribs.

“Calm down,” Hermione ordered, “You woke me up with your nervous thinking.”

Harry snorted. “Sorry, yeah, I’ll just try to keep these thoughts to myself.”

Harry caught her rolling her eyes before she shifted to look up into his eyes. “Or maybe voice these thoughts aloud so they don’t keep you up.”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and frowned. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Hermione frowned before shifting fully out of his arms. She propped up pillows against the headboard and bade him to join her, sitting up against the pillows.

“Doxy?”

Doxy appeared at the foot of the bed.

“May we have a tea service please?”

Doxy snapped her fingers. “And some bacon and fruit too. Call for Doxy if you want more for breakfast.”

Hermione smiled. “Thanks, Doxy, but I think we’ll go down for a full breakfast soon.”

Doxy nodded and popped away.

Harry frowned at the tea service. He realized he kind of wanted to stew in half-mindless sleep for a few minutes. Hermione caught his eyes and smirked as if knowing he hadn’t wanted to actually talk about what was bothering him.

Tricky little witch.

He took his time making his tea, nibbled on a piece of bacon, and wondered if anyone had more patience than Hermione to sit and wait. Or maybe she just knew how little patience he had.

Finally, he whispered, “What if there is really a prophecy, about me and Riddle, and he killed my parents, and _grandparents_ , to get to me?”

Hermione held his hand and waited for Harry to meet her eyes. “What if there was a prophecy about…Dumbledore and…and Perseus and Dumbledore decided he needed to kill Percy because of the prophecy. Would you stand aside to let that happen?”

Harry growled at the thought. He didn’t even appreciate the fact that his animagus spirit was coming out when he didn’t even know his form yet. His thoughts were focused on his baby brothers and how he’d kill anyone who would even think about hurting them.

Hermione squeezed his hand. “Would you want Percy to feel guilty? If you died for him? If I died for him?”

Harry shook his head, words beyond him at thought of someone killing Hermione…someone trying to kill Percy. That hurt.

Hermione squeezed his hand again. “I know I would want Percy to feel loved, so completely loved, because I would rather die than anything happen to him.”

Harry looked down, blinking away tears.

“I,” Harry swallowed back a sob, “It still hurts to think about.”

Hermione snuggled into his side. “Of course, love. But put the blame on whom it belongs. Not you, not your parents or grandparents. Riddle. It was _always_ his fault.”

Harry nodded and took a deep gulp of his tea, once again trying to settle his magic. And then he felt it, Hermione’s magic, reach out to him, wrapping him up in love and security. A few tears leaked at the feeling. Warm. Protected. Loved.

“I love you,” Harry said, choking up, “so much.”

Hermione pressed a kiss to his neck. “I love you so much.” Hermione settled into his side. “Now, let’s finish this tea, get ready for the day, and kick ass.”

Harry snorted into laughter. “Yes ma’am.”

Kick ass, though, started with joining the rest of the family at breakfast. Draco and Neville had gone home as had almost everyone else, except Uncle Alphard and surprisingly Great Aunt Cassie. Hermione made a noise of glee and abandoned him upon entering the breakfast room to sit by her side. They immediately picked up a conversation from…somewhere. Uncle Alphard, who was closest to them, gave them both a look of surprise and Harry decided he didn’t want to know what they were talking about. If it could surprise Uncle Alphard…well, nothing good could come from that.

Harry passed Leo, ruffling his hair, and sat next to Carina, who tilted her cheek up just like Grandma; Harry kissed her cheek with a loud smacking noise. Carina wrinkled her nose but giggled all the same.

“Morning, starshine,” he said. She beamed at him so Harry felt it was all well worth the effort.

“When are we going to play today?” She asked.

Quidditch of course, but she didn’t need to say that. They always played a round of quidditch whenever he was home for a holiday. He grimaced before looking up to Dad and Grandpa.

“This afternoon, little star,” Dad said, “Harry, Hermione, and I have to run some quick errands at the Ministry and Gringotts.”

Carina pouted, her bottom lip jutting out in the full furious display. “You’ll be quick about it right?”

Dad snorted as Mum sighed, her eyes rolling skyward. “Carina, that was rude.”

Carina frowned at Mum. “No, it wasn’t. I was just asking—” But she trailed off at the warning look Mum gave her. “Sorry, Dad. Will you please be…efficient with your errands so Harry can teach me the Wronski Feint?”

Dad smirked at her, holding in a laugh. “We will endeavor to be as _efficient_ as possible little star.”

Carina narrowed her eyes at him, disbelieving, before turning to Harry and whispering, “Can you leave now? So you’re home sooner?”

Harry snickered and heard a few more snorts and snickers to know that Carina wasn’t as good at whispering as she should be. He leaned down to her and whispered quietly enough so no one else could hear, “You have to be quieter if you don’t want to be overheard.

Carina pinned him with a look that said she clearly _knew_ that. Harry straightened as he laughed loudly. “Right,” he said normally, “I should start calling you little snake.” He ruffled her hair gently before turning to Dad and Hermione. “Can we leave soon so I can teach the next Slytherin seeker the Wronski Feint?”

Grandpa laughed. “I’m sure Draco would be happy to teach his protégé. Why don’t we ask him to come over soon, Carina?”

Harry leaned over, wrapping Carina in his arms and turning her away from Grandpa. “What! No! I’m the big brother, I get to teach quidditch moves. It’s written in the sibling code.”

Carina, giggling, tried to squirm out of his grasp. “I promise I won’t let Draco teach me anything quidditch related…until…” She settled into her seat with a thoughtful face, “Until one in the afternoon.” She wagged her finger in Harry’s face. “So you have to finish your errands before then.”

Dad, snickering, said, “Alright then! You heard the little star, we got to go if we want to be back by one.”

Harry exhaled sharply. While he wasn’t actually prepared for this…he was kind of glad they were just jumping in headfirst. Maybe he was a little more Gryffindor than he thought.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked stricken at the idea. She grabbed his outstretched hand as they made their way to the foyer with the floo, and mumbled, “But what’s the plan? Are we really just going to walk into the Hall of Prophecies without a plan?”

Dad snorted. “Sometimes, Hermione, the simplest plan is best.” He turned to her after grabbing the floo powder on the mantle. “I’ll go first, then Harry, then you. We walk past the checkpoint and straight down to the Department of Mysteries like we have an appointment. Make limited eye contact with people but walk with your head held high, like you own the place…”

“Like how you walk through the library,” Harry added, teasing her.

Hermione jabbed her elbow into his side and he winced. Dad rolled his eyes, smiling.

“We go in, we see if there’s a prophecy, and we get out. Then we file your betrothal in the Office of Magical Bonds and floo to Diagon Alley to file your betrothal with the Horde.”

“And tell them what we discussed last night?”

Dad nodded, his face suddenly, well, _serious_. “And be home by one.”

A simple plan was sometimes best.

And it certainly went well in the beginning.

They walked through the Ministry with ease, Hermione’s head held high as she emanated her “I’m on a mission to the library” energy. Through to the elevators, they walked down the eerie Department of Mysteries hallway, all to the revolving doors.

“Hall of Prophecies,” Dad called out clearly.

The doors spun for a minute until it stopped with a door opening in front of them. In they walked and immediately met with a…person in a hood. For a wild, fleeting moment, Harry thought it was Death until he remembered that Unspeakables also wore hoods that hid their identity.

“Good morning,” Dad said cheerily. “My son just claimed his title, and as is tradition for the House of Gryffindor, he is here to see if any prophecies bear his name.”

The Unspeakable stood still. Harry wasn’t sure if they were looking at him, Dad, or Hermione but he focused on wearing his most neutral expression as if Dad didn’t just pull that excuse from his ass. At least it was partially true. He did just claim his title.

Slowly the Unspeakable nodded and turned around. Harry wasn’t sure if they were meant to follow but Dad did so immediately.

For the first time, Harry took a look around at the Hall of Prophecies. It was blinding row after blinding row of immense shelves filled with white, glowing orbs. It, honestly, seemed ridiculous. How were they supposed to find the prophecy they were looking for with all of this? Was there a system of sorts? A book perhaps?

The Unspeakable turned into a row and they followed. It looked like the shelves went on forever but he knew that had to be impossible. Although, why were they stored like this? And did it go on forever? Was that possible?

They walked for a few minutes more before the Unspeakable stopped and turned to face them. They gestured to an orb.

Harry’s heart dropped. He had been holding onto some hope that maybe, maybe it wasn’t true.

But there it was. An orb with the name Tom Riddle and then his own name…with a question mark though…as if the prophecy was still unclear on if it was actually about him. Harry frowned and reached out to take it when Dad stopped him.

“We’d like a private listening room.”

The Unspeakable flicked their wand presumably, as the wand and their hand were still hidden by their sleeve, and the orb floated ahead of them. The Unspeakable led them back where they came. Another turn, more walking, and finally, they were in a dark room with the prophecy glowing faintly in a stand and the Unspeakable left.

He reached out again, but Dad stopped him again.

“Tilly,” he whispered. Tilly appeared beside him silently. He nodded to the orb and Tilly snapped her fingers. Another orb, an exact replica, appeared floating in front of her. She switched the orbs and silently popped away with the original orb.

Dad waited a few minutes while Harry and Hermione stared at him silently. Clearly, they were not privy to the _whole_ plan. Finally, Dad led them out of the room.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Dad said to the Unspeakable outside the door. “We’ll see ourselves out.”

Harry wanted to protest that he was horribly lost when the Unspeakable nodded and gestured to a door that Harry had not noticed when they first entered the room.

And like that, they were out of the Department of Mysteries and riding the elevator up to the Office of Magical Bonds on level five. The bond paperwork had already been filled out, probably by Grandpa, Harry thought, but it still required their signatures. Hermione signed where indicated, with a large smile. Harry grinned at her, happy to have these pleasant distractions from the mystery still waiting for him at home. He didn’t fail to notice, though, the peculiar and, well, _judging_ , looks from those around him. He put on his best, haughty but bored Heir of Ravenswood face that he borrowed from Dad when he turned to those people. To Hermione, though, he bestowed a wide grin and kissed her cheek, close to her lips to flirt with propriety. Hermione giggled, either unaware or unperturbed by the judgmental eyes of the office. It helped him relax.

When they flooed to Diagon Alley, Harry relaxed. It had felt like going into a lion’s den back at the Ministry, unsure if they were going to come out the same. It was nice to be back in the fresh air and on safe ground.

Especially in Gringotts. As soon as Hermione entered, there was a flurry of activity and they were immediately swept away into the safety of the Horde. Hermione began chatting with the guard escorting them, Sverit or something like that. Harry resisted rolling his eyes — it would be just like her to learn every goblin’s name.

Finally, they were guided into a room with Rugnut, Talnuk, the Black account manager, and Dryk, the Gryffindor account manager, the only goblins Harry had actually met.

“Rugnut,” Dad said, placing his right fist over his heart. “A pleasure as always to see you.”

Rugnut returned the greeting, but then rolled his eyes. “Pleasure as always _Sirius_.” The emphasis on Dad’s name told him all he needed to know about their relationship. Clearly, Dad was never as serious as Rugnut would like. Or maybe Rugnut did enjoy the bit of humor Dad always brought with him.

Dad laughed before turning to the other two goblins and greeting them as well. Harry repeated the greetings, albeit briefer. They nodded in return to him before bowing over their closed fists to Hermione.

Hermione smiled and curtsied to each in turn. “Rugnut, Talnuk, Dryk. May the blood of your enemies run as a gold river to you.”

They three each grinned, sharp and vicious, “May the gold river enrich us all.”

Harry shared a smile with Dad, knowing that such traditional greetings would be welcome from Hermione but definitely not by them.

Rugnut gestured to the seats as he took the seat at the head. Harry held out a chair for Hermione before sitting down himself.

“Now,” Rugnut steepled his hands together, “What business brings you three to Gringotts on this balanced day of Mabon? Business or pleasure?”

Dad grinned, sharp and a little wicked. “Why not both?”

“Business first?” Rugnut asked.

But Hermione shook her head. “No, let’s get the pleasant things finished before we have to deal with…” She eyed Talnuk and Dryk.

Rugnut grinned again, sharp and mean, “So pleasure?”

So for the second time that morning, Harry and Hermione signed various betrothal contracts — these slightly more extensive as their alliances joined. Harry felt grateful that these contracts had already been negotiated and poured over the past few years so that Harry could just sign them without worrying.

“Well, then,” Rugnut organized the paperwork after each goblin had a thorough look over. “With these signed, there is no reason for Talnuk and Dryk not to be included in these discussions.”

Talnuk grunted. “Oi, I’ve been a part of this for a while now, it was Dryk we’ve been waiting for.”

Harry sent Dryk an apologetic look, even though it wasn’t exactly this fault. “I’ve just been looped in as of last night.”

Dryk sent a withering look to Harry before turning to Talnuk and Rugnut. “Someone tell me what’s going on right this minute.”

Hermione bounced in her seat. “Can we save the full explanation? I want to know if my theory is correct and…”

Rugnut sent Dryk a toothy grin. “What’s the theory Lady Ravenclaw?”

“I believe that inside Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault there are one of the horcruxes.”

Talnuk growled but it was mostly overshadowed by Dryk shouting, “Horcruxes!” He stood up from his chair, an odd color rising in his face as he shouted again, “What the bloody fuck does she mean one of them?” He turned on Rugnut, “How dare you hide something like this? Does your father know? Where is Ragnok?”

“I’m here.”

Everyone jumped from their chairs. Ragnok approached from a side entrance Harry didn’t even notice. The three goblins and Hermione gave the traditional greetings. Harry glanced over to Dad, unsure of how to respond. Dad gave him a strained grin and bowed to Ragnok. Harry quickly followed.

Ragnok nodded stiffly in return. It was silent for a moment as Ragnok seemed to appraise him. Harry stood up straighter.

Ragnok turned to Hermione. “Are you sure about this one? Gryffindors can be so temerarious.”

Hermione shot him a look that told Harry many things. Firstly, this was not the first time she was meeting him. Secondly, she had a close relationship with him, and finally, thirdly, that she liked him.

She laughed at Ragnok while rolling her eyes before pinning Harry with an overly fond look. “He sorted into Ravenclaw — he’s definitely the best of their lot.”

Harry grinned weakly, still reeling from the revelation that his betrothed has a close friendship with the Chieftain of the Goblin Horde.

Impressive, breathtaking, scary — also three words he would use to describe Hermione.

“So, what did you learn?” Ragnok said as he settled down in the chair previously held by Rugnut.

Hermione repeated herself. Dryk gave a growl of anger but otherwise remained silent.

Ragnok steepled his fingers together. If Harry didn’t know better, he would have said he looked very calm and relaxed. But Hermione’s hand was currently breaking all the bones in his own, so he knew that there was a problem…even if he didn’t know what yet.

It became apparent as soon as Ragnok spoke, his voice low and furious. “Get a team of cursebreakers down there immediately.”

Rugnut nodded and moved to turn out of the room but then Tulnuk spoke. “Her vault is no longer under the Black family accounts.”

Ragnok growled and Tulnuk held his hands up.

“Technically, the Black and Lestrange family had joint status over the account until…”

Dad slammed his hand on the table. “Fuck!”

Harry and Hermione jumped.

He sent them an apologetic smile. “Who would have ever thought that disinheriting Bellatrix would bite us in the ass?”

Hermione frowned, turning back to Ragnok. “But what about the clause voiding the proprietorship of a vault ‘containing…’”

“‘Any magic or magical item that by nature or design would offend Lady Hecate herself?’” Ragnok finished with a wry smile. “We still need permission to enter the vault…or evidence of such an artifact inside.”

Hermione frowned, as did Harry. What was the point of having such a clause if they couldn’t check to see if it was followed? Why couldn’t they just open the damn vault, find the object, and void proprietor or whatever then? Who would ever know the difference anyway?

_Actually_ , Harry straightened in his chair, who would know the difference?

“The Lestrange brothers are in Azkaban,” Harry said, his thoughts tumbling over each other.

Dad snorted. “I still doubt they’d give us permission to open their vault.” Under his breath, he added, “Bastards probably still think he’ll come back and save them.”

Harry nodded. “Right and Bellatrix is still there. And she didn’t have any kids before she went to prison…and neither did the other Lestrange brother—what was his name?”

“Rabastan,” Hermione answered.

Harry shot her a surprised look and she grimaced. “Still technically a part of your family so still technically about to become part of mine.”

Dad laughed, but it was harsh and sad. “What a terrible addition to the prestigious line of Ravenclaw.”

“Indeed,” Rugnut muttered.

But that sort of made it easier for him Harry realized. “Brilliant!” Harry ignored the confused looks directed at him. “Hermione, is there anyone who has a direct relation to the Lestrange brothers that aren’t in prison?”

Hermione frowned, her eyes unfocused just above his shoulder. Slowly she shook her head. “No direct relation. They do have some distant cousins, of course, but…” Hermione’s eyes lit up as they met his. “You’re brilliant!” She jumped forward and placed a loud kiss on his lips.

Harry grinned, wrapping her up in his arms, savoring the moment until his dad started to cough. Right, they were in the middle of something.

“Catch us up with the rest of the class?” Dad asked, chuckling.

Hermione beamed at him so he took the lead. “Right, um,” Harry glanced from his dad to Ragnok, “I don’t know all the rules of the bank or the Horde but…if Bellatrix’s vault can only be accessed by herself or the Lestranges, then well…the only three people in the world that would apply to are in Azkaban for the rest of their lives.”

Ragnok slowly raised his eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we steal from their vault?”

Harry blanched. “No! No, not at all… I’m just saying…well…Aunt Narcissa believes that Bellatrix was given a…a horcrux…and Dad mentioned that your scrying for Riddle always landed on the bank…so technically we have _some_ evidence of a black object and…” Everyone was looking at him now. Shite. He thought it was a good idea. “Well, the only people who would complain about the sufficiency of the evidence isn’t here. And when we find the object, then proprietorship of the vault is, uh, voided. Right?”

Ragnok stared at him and no one said a word. Harry resisted the urge to gulp, knowing that everyone would see it. Slowly, Ragnok turned his gaze to Hermione.

“He’s rather devious, isn’t he?”

Hermione grinned broadly. “Told you,” she sung smugly.

Harry let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as Ragnok clapped his hands.

“After hearing the evidence presented before me, I, Ragnok, Chieftain of the Horde, do believe there is an object within Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault that voids her proprietorship thereof.” He turned to Rugnut, “Get the cursebreakers now.” He turned back to Tulnuk. “Satisfied?”

Tulnuk grimaced. “Let’s hope they stay in Azkaban or else explaining this to the Ministry may result in another rebellion.”

Dad laughed sharply. “The House of Black would be happy to go to war with the Horde.”

Tulnuk sighed. “As if that’s comforting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NaNoWriMo has given my writing new life. Here's to hoping I can churn out chapters every week now. 
> 
> Enjoy!


	9. Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loopholes and tying up loose ends.

Harry and Hermione were quiet when they returned home having witnessed a horcrux being destroyed by the goblins in ritual fiendfyre.

Sirius didn’t feel elated either, as he saw Death for a fleeting moment, in the shadows. And now they all knew what was waiting for them at home.

They walked straight into the main dining room from the floo room, where most of the adults of the family were gathered around the orb emitting a bright white light.

Sirius squeezed Harry’s shoulder. Harry straightened up taller next to him and made his way over to the prophecy. Hermione walked tall next to him, holding his hand. Sirius made his way to the other side of the table and stood behind Rose. Her hand gripped the one he had rested on her shoulder.

After a brief, tense moment, Harry picked up the orb.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…”

With shaking hands, Harry put the orb back down. No spoke for a long moment. It was silent except for the sharp scratches of Cousin Cassie’s quill.

“Pick it up again, Harry,” Cassie said, “I didn’t catch that last bit.”

Harry, Draco, and Neville glared at her. Grandmother looked aghast at her nonchalance and opened her mouth to berate her but Hermione spoke instead.

In steady but solemn tones, Hermione recited the entire prophecy.

Cassie looked up after she had finished writing with a grin. “Thank you, love, not all of us are blessed with such a memory.” Her eyes lit up again and she turned to Cousin Cedrella, “Can you imagine what their children will be like? Potters were no slouches with potions either you know.”

Cedrella stared at Cassie before sighing, long and loud. “Well, I’m glad someone isn’t worried about this.”

Honestly, Sirius felt like throwing up. There was no way in hell he was going to let his son face Riddle alone.

Cassie waved a hand, dismissing the reproach. “Oh please, prophecies are…”

“Divined by fate?” Uncle Iggy growled. “Not to be trifled with?”

“Self-fulfilling and madness to interpret?” Uncle Cygnus added.

“Only for _fools_ ,” Cassie rolled her eyes.

Sirius caught Grandfather frowning at them all. He wanted to believe Cassie but…

“This is a true prophecy,” Grandmother said, “It would have to be a true prophecy to be recorded for the Hall of Prophecies. That is _ancient_ magic.”

“Yes, but I can already think of a few different ways to circumvent this prophecy whilst still technically fulfilling it. I’m sure our dear Hermione could think of a few hundred more ways to get around this as well.”

Everyone’s eyes swiveled from Cassie to Hermione, who was frowning at her.

“I would need to read more on prophecies of course,” Hermione started slowly, “I see what you mean.”

“Can someone explain to me then?” Harry asked tightly.

Cassie smiled at him. “If the prophecy is talking about you, which, if anyone cares to remember there is another boy who was born at the end of July—” Neville’s face went sheet white and Callidora made a soft keening sound while Augusta gasped sharply.

“Alice and Frank did face Riddle three times,” she said softly.

Harry’s hand flew to his forehead, where sowilo was marked there forever, and frowned.

“He didn’t technically mark me, either,” Harry said softly.

Cassie nodded, grinning wide still, “Exactly! That was your mother’s doing, brilliant witch that she is.”

“Mark could mean something less literal though,” Tonks said. “It could mean that Riddle had just chosen to attack the Potters and that’s how he marked them.”

Cassie nodded again, _still_ grinning. Sirius had an urge to punch something. “ _Ex-act-ly!_ ” She annunciated each syllable.

“Which means _hand_ could be figurative as well!” Hermione exclaimed. “Like a chosen champion!”

Cassie raised her hands in praise. “See? We’ll need to spend some time with the prophecy, of course, to make sure Fate isn’t cheated her due, but she has given us plenty of wiggle room to work with.”

Hermione nodded seriously. “Right, I’ll need a lot of books and…”

She continued speaking but Sirius wasn’t paying attention anymore. The prophecy had felt like a weight, and now, he felt a little bit free. A little bit lighter. His son wasn’t going to face Riddle alone, they would put in a champion for him, a right-hand man. It would be okay.

It had to be okay.

///

Carina pounded on the dining room door at one o’clock sharp. Harry, Neville, and Draco jumped up immediately, eager to leave the serious discussion behind. Moments later, Sirius followed them to the outdoor patio that had a clear view of the quidditch pitch. He watched as they all launched into the air and flew their way over.

Rose wrapped her arms around him from behind. “How you feeling, love?”

Sirius sunk a little into her embrace. “Could be better. Could be worse.”

She chuckled sharply. “That’s encouraging.” She shifted around, tucking herself into his side, so they could both watch most of the children in their lives fly about. “You put safety charms on Leo’s broom, right?”

Sirius winced. “Right, uh, don’t be mad, love but…”

Rose groaned. “You forgot.”

“Harry’s out there! Nothing bad will happen.”

“Sirius,” Rose pinched her nose, “Please for the love of…”

“What did you do this time, Pads?” Remus snickered behind him.

Sirius turned and glared at his best friend. He caught sight of a broom. “Are you going to head out there?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, I lost a bet with Tonks, and they…”

Sirius laughed. “What are they making you do?”

“I’m making the old man play quidditch with me, obviously.” Tonks strolled around the corner, broom over one of their shoulders, and a wide grin on their face. They had shortened their hair from the hot pink tousled bob to a hot pink buzz cut, probably due to the upcoming quidditch match they were going to play.

Rose relaxed next to him. “Tonks, Remus, could one of you activate the safety charms on Leo’s broom please?”

“No problem, cuz,” Tonks said as they walked past Remus, accidentally (or maybe purposefully) knocking the end of their broomstick across his face.

“Ouch! Tonks!” Remus growled.

Tonks grinned cheekily before setting off, flying over to the pitch. Sirius heard them shout at Leo to get his broom over to them.

Sirius smiled devilishly at Remus. “I think they aren’t going to stop flirting until you give in, _old man_.”

Remus glowered at Sirius. “I’m thirteen years older than them!”

Rose scoffed. “Maybe physically but mentally, I think you and Sirius are barely thirty. _Barely._ ”

Sirius laughed. “I knew you were the love of my life for a reason.” He placed a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek. “No go on, you barely thirty-year-old man before my cousin decides to lock you in a room for the next bet you lose.”

Remus glared at both of them before taking off, mumbling under his breath about the craziness of the Blacks.

“Where are the twins?” Sirius asked, suddenly realizing it was too quiet in the house.

“Hopping between hands, most likely. Your grandmother and many aunts and cousins shifted into the parlor to plan our son’s wedding.” She shuddered. “I don’t want to think about it for another year. At least.”

Sirius frowned. “Agreed.”

Thinking about the wedding, thinking at least two years in the future, Sirius wondered if the Riddle would be dead by then. They had destroyed one more horcrux that day. They were down to one then. And the one ejected from Hogwarts, which…was probably in Albania, fighting for life. Sirius shuddered and Rose squeezed him tighter to her.

Would Riddle know that another one of his horcruxes was destroyed? Would it spur him to make a move quicker than they wanted? 

///

Arcturus sat at his desk. Ravenswood was quiet for the first time in days; all the children—young adults—were back at Hogwarts. Hermione had utilized the help of everyone’s elves to scour all the libraries she had access to. In the end, they had a pile of over a hundred books on prophecies — Hermione had wanted to take them all to read but he put his foot down. Instead, between several family members, everyone took about six to seven books, although Cassie and Hermione took ten each. And she made everyone promise that once they were done with a book they would return it to the general collection. Arcturus knew that by Samhain, Hermione would have likely read at least twenty of the books.

The prophecy changed his plans for Riddle. Again. He had read Cassie’s handwritten copy several times over and already he thought of thousands of ways to interpret it. _As the seventh month dies_ — Did that mean the seventh month in the Gregorian calendar? The seventh month as in the literal name September? Or the seventh month in the Celtic calendar?

And what did _dies_ mean? The very last day, like Harry’s birthday, or maybe the second to last day, like Neville’s birthday?

Arcturus shook his head. He couldn’t get bogged down in the details. Not yet.

There were still many other things to worry about. Like whoever attacked him and Lucius. Or who tried to attack Hermione? Were they part of the same plot? An attempt to get close to Harry or close to another horcrux?

Or worse, were they different enemies? Unrelated with different aims?

Arcturus rubbed his forehead and groaned. An unknown enemy was an unknown variable. He couldn’t account for countermoves.

But at least today, hopefully, more information would come to light. He was planning on meeting with Auror Shacklebolt at Grimmauld Place to review the memories gathered.

He checked the time and straightened his robes as he stood. Lucius was meeting them at Grimmauld but he wanted to make sure Sirius was ready. Nearly everyone wanted to review the memories but he knew they were already pushing themselves into an official investigation. If they went too far, they’d lose access to all the information. Besides, Arcturus promised to pay special attention so Cygnus and Alphard could review his own memory of the pensieve.

Sirius was waiting for him at the floo with a grim expression. He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

Sirius smiled tightly. “I hate that stupid house.”

Rose entered the foyer at that moment with Cepheé and Percy each on a hip.

Sirius’s smile loosened at the sight of them. “Hello boys,” he reached out and took Cepheé into his arms. “Isn’t it a bit early for them to be up?” He asked as cuddled with Cepheé.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, but I think they noticed you were gone.” Arcturus’s eyebrows rose; his expression matched by Sirius. Rose went on, “They got fussy when you left the room and started to babble for ‘da-da’.” She shrugged. “I figured they might feel better if they saw you one more time before you left.”

Sirius frowned slightly, eyeing the two boys. He held Cepheé tighter to him and reached out to cup the back of Percy’s head. “Morning boys. Are you going to be good for Mama today?”

They babbled some more, ‘da-da’s and ‘ma-ma’s and ‘sahs’ which everyone agreed was their way of saying ‘stars,’ who were Carina and Leo, of course. Not to be confused with “Hawwy,” which they started to babble around the end of August.

Percy threw his arms in the air and reached for Sirius. Carefully, Rose transferred Percy into Sirius’s other arm and helped him to support both of the growing twins. Percy stuck his face straight into Sirius’s neck and fell silent.

“Are they sick, do you think?” Rose asked, pressing a hand to Cepheé’s forehead. He had laid his head on Sirius’s shoulder and continued to babble.

Sirius shook his head and took a deep breath. Arcturus had a feeling as to what he was doing. He tapped into the family magic as well, breathing deep and settling the rolling energy into a smooth, calm wave. He was sure everyone would feel the steadying pressure, and he hoped it helped Sirius to calm his own magic.

Sirius nodded slowly after a minute as the twins calmed down and settled into a light nap in their father’s arms.

“What was that?” Rose whispered, eyes wide.

Arcturus grinned. _Brilliant._ “They inherited your gift, didn’t they, Sirius?”

Sirius nodded, frowning again. He handed back each twin slowly. “Do you need help getting them back up to bed?”

Rose shook her head. “Sirius?”

He kissed her forehead. “Nothing bad, I swear love. But you know how I’m sensitive to magic?”

Rose squeezed the twins to her. “Oh, oh.” She sighed. “They felt your magic and were worried.”

Sirius smiled grimly. “I’ll try to do better in keeping that under control.”

“We’ll all have to do better,” Arcturus corrected gently. “They’ll be able to feel everyone’s magic.”

“Right, right,” Rose sighed. “Okay, I’ll let everyone know.” She leaned up and kissed Sirius quickly on the cheek. “Go on, I’m sure I made you late now.”

Sirius dropped quick kisses to each of the boys before giving her a peck on the lips. “Yeah, well, I think I needed this.”

Rose laughed. “Looks like the boys are already looking after you.”

Arcturus chuckled lightly. “Come on.” He stepped up to the floo and left first, giving Sirius a moment alone with Rose to collect himself. He forgot how much Sirius hated this house…and now… The twins were fourteen months old. Was Sirius that young when he grew into his sensitivity to magic? And without parents who would’ve paid attention to that sensitivity…without him, either, Arcturus thought. Without a poisoned father.

Arcturus took a deep breath, grateful that Lucius had not actually shown up yet.

Not that he actually had a moment or more to breathe because Lucius quickly followed him out of the floo. He stepped out of the way just in time.

Lucius quirked a brow. “And here I thought I was going to be late.”

Arcturus smiled wryly. “The twins had a bout of accidental magic.” Arcturus gestured to Lucius to follow him out to the…public floo room. Grimmauld Place had officially become their public meeting place a few nights ago, but that didn’t mean they were going to open the whole house for visitors. The upper floors, where the bedrooms, a small library, potions lab, another two offices, and this private floo room, were to be kept locked and warded.

Arcturus had adjusted the wards to accept visitors into the main floo room and limited them to the dining hall, library, and the larger office on the main floor. He set several passwords on the library, however, as he didn’t actually want anyone outside of the family to have access to it, but it was trickier to work the wards to lock certain rooms on a floor and not others. He also didn’t want anyone to know he had warded this house in this way.

Auror Shacklebolt was waiting in the public floo room with two other aurors and Kreacher, as an unintentional guard.

“Master Black,” Kreacher bowed as he entered the room. “Aurors be here.”

“Thank you Kreacher,” Arcturus nodded to him before nodding to his guests. “Please prepare a tea service in the office.” Kreacher popped away. “Gentlemen.”

“Lord Black, Lord Malfoy” Shacklebolt nodded to him, “This is Auror Dawlish and Walsh. They are working on this case with me.”

Arcturus and Lucius greeted the aurors.

“Is Heir Black joining us?” Shacklebolt asked as Arcturus led them to the office.

“Right behind you, Kingsley,” Sirius said, appearing at the top of the stairs from the private floo room.

Shacklebolt quirked a brow. “Not Auror Shacklebolt anymore?”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You had just appeared after my grandfather was almost murdered, I’d’ve thought you’d excuse the formality.”

“And then Hogwarts,” Shacklebolt added.

Sirius frowned. “My future daughter-in-law was potioned. Any leads?”

Shacklebolt shook his head as they entered the office. The two other aurors stood silently near the back. Arcturus, however, went over to the cabinet in which they placed their pensieve. It felt wrong to have it out in the open — locked in a cabinet in a heavily warded room, but it was only for today. It would be safely stored back into its dimensional pocket as soon as the aurors left.

“Nothing,” Shacklebolt said, “Lady Ravenclaw sent over a list of every elf that entered the wards for the entire year…but there’s no way to tell which elf was ordered to put the potion in her drink. And there were over a hundred private elves at Hogwarts just in these past three weeks.”

Sirius shared a look with him and frowned. It did at least narrow the person down to only the hundred or so people who owned a house elf. Arcturus nodded minutely to Sirius — they would have to get that list from Hermione and eliminate from it as necessary.

Arcturus clapped his hands, calling everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Memories, please?” He waved his wand and floated the pensieve to the desk.

Shacklebolt stepped forward. “We managed to get a collection of twenty memories. You and Lord Malfoy just need to add your own.”

Lucius stepped up immediately and poured his memory from a glass vial. Arcturus did the same, having already pulled the memory earlier that morning.

“After you gentlemen,” Arcturus gestured to the three aurors. Arcturus waited until everyone had entered before he entered himself, and started the collection of memories.

He felt his and Sirius’s magic flow within the pensieve, the Black family magic working with the magic of the memories to form a fairly cohesive picture. As he watched himself walk through the crowd, Arcturus could almost pretend to back in that moment, when the most frustrating part of his day was the bickering of the children who called themselves Wizengamot Lords and Ladies.

But he didn’t focus on himself this time. No, he scoured the other memories, forming faces and conversations he was not privy to the first time. He paid special attention to the conversations — a way of eavesdropping he had never thought of before — but could hardly resist the opportunity to do so now.

“Him!” He heard one of the aurors shout. He turned and saw the auror pointing to a cloaked figure. He rolled his eyes. How unhelpful.

“Let’s play it again,” Shacklebolt said.

Obligingly, Arcturus restarted the memory. This happened several times, as the aurors watched the movements of the cloaked figure. No memories showed a clear picture of their face. After they replayed the memory at least twenty times, the aurors gave up. Arcturus would’ve been frustrated if not for the fact that all of the replays of the memory gave him ample opportunity to memorize and magically reinforce his memory of the experience. He was confident he could give a startlingly good reenactment of the memories. _Not as good as Hermione though_ , he thought wryly.

The aurors packed up the memories and left with little words of their continued effort to find the perpetrator. Arcturus saw them out to the public floo room. He accepted their words but felt confident that the House of Black would find the culprits before them.

He returned to the office to see Sirius pouring himself a drink.

“It’s not even noon,” he admonished.

Sirius growled, his hands shaking.

“What did you see?” Lucius asked quietly.

Arcturus blinked. He hadn’t realized until then that Sirius had been abnormally quiet during the last few repeats of the memory.

Sirius turned to him, his face contorted and Arcturus realized Sirius was brutally controlling his magic. He tossed back the too large glass of firewhisky and said between clenched teeth, “A fucking rat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure a responsible author would not post chapters immediately after finishing them in order to keep a semi-regular schedule for readers. 
> 
> I'm not responsible. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. Yes, Tonks is nonbinary. I have a headcanon that when they were 10 and more fully in control of their metamorphmagus abilities, they decided to go by they/them/their pronouns due to the fact that not only is gender a social construct but their body IS NOT EVEN confined to a single gender. So they identify as nonbinary.
> 
> Is this in response to JKR's terfness? No. (Although fuck her for that.) This has been my headcanon ever since I unlearned the gender binary. Because in my mind, most metamorphmagi (metamorphmaguses?) do not view gender as binary since they, themselves, are not confined to physically present as one gender but can choose based on their mood, or their preference, or any other determining factor they so choose. This is not to say that all metamorphmagi identify as nonbinary, as there are a plethora of other labels to choose from (such as genderfluid or pangender), but Tonk, here, does and has, since they were 10.
> 
> If you have a problem with that, stop reading my fics. This is an LGBTQIA+ safe place. 
> 
> (While I'm on the subject since I don't know if this is ever gonna come up in this fic, Sirius is pansexual. In fact, he is always pansexual in any fic I will *ever* write. (This is a headcanon that will persist across everything since I cannot separate that from him. It'd be like trying to take away his leather jacket or something.) Also, in this fic, Cassie is asexual and aromantic - she could not be bothered to even pretend otherwise. (Her parents tried to arrange a marriage for her but she blackmailed them and they stopped.)
> 
> Um, yeah, I think that's it for now.


	10. Countermoves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time.

Fate. Great Aunt Cassie’s words still rang in his ears, days later, “to make sure Fate isn’t cheated her due.” He shuddered.

Hermione nudged him gently having likely felt the shudder against her side. He nudged her back and shared a small smile with her. She returned to her book where she was taking diligent notes to the side.

The library was mostly empty this Sunday morning, but Harry knew it would fill up soon. It was part of the reason they were there so early. The other part was the research they had in front of them.

Everyone in the family, no less than three times each, warned them to keep their research a secret. He’d be frustrated with their paranoia if it hadn’t been proven necessary. Grandfather and Uncle Lucius had been attacked at the Ministry. Hermione had been attacked at Hogwarts. Harry didn’t feel safe for the first time since…well, first year.

Which was why he was up early on a Sunday morning, three stacks of books surrounding him, Hermione, and Neville as they worked through the books on prophecies they were given.

They’d been back to school for almost two weeks and Hermione had already gone through most of her books. He was struggling to read one…every time he started, every time he opened a book, he heard the prophecy repeating like a sadistic mantra in his head. And then, every time he read the word “fate,” he heard Great Aunt Cassie: “to make sure Fate isn’t cheated her due.”

Her due. Fate’s due. What the fuck was Fate due anyway? Why him? He glanced at Neville…if it even was him.

He took a deep breath and refocused on the book in front of him.

_It has long been debated as to whether Fate is a god, goddess, deity, or force of magic. Unlike magic, which has been connected and infused into the world by Lady Hecate, Fate is elusive._

_The famous wix Homer has called Fate_ Moira, _a force personified by three goddesses, also known as the Spinners: Clotho (spinner), Lachesis (allotter), and Atropos (unturning). Their power supposedly runs parallel and independent from the gods._

_However, other sources have connected the Moirai to not only different goddesses but different parentages as well. For some, the Moirai are three daughters of Nyx, Goddess of the Night: Keres (fate), Thanatos (death), and Nemesis (retribution). And still, others believe the Moirai to be daughters of Zeus and Themis: Eunomia (order), Dike (justice), and Eirene (peace)._

_As magi-philosophers study the matter, one thread of “Fate’s Force” becomes clear: prophecies. Prophecies have long been held as the only accountable and measurable force of fate._

_At the inception of the International Confederation of Wix, every country became responsible for harvesting and hosting prophecies. Mila Santiago, the famous Spanish Seer of the early 1300s, invented the runic sequence still used today that taps into the Ley lines of the world to collect true prophecies as they are spoken. Since her ingenious sequence, magi-philosophers have had the opportunity to study the thousands of prophecies recorded each year. Unfortunately, Madam Santiago, a prestigious and accomplished Seer herself, created the runic sequence in such a way that no one but that whom the prophecy refers to could hear what Fate had dictated._

Harry jolted out of his chair. Hermione raised her eyebrows, silently asking what was wrong. He shoved the book at her and pointed to that last sentence.

_No one but that whom the prophecy refers to._ He shuddered.

“Hmm,” Hermione hummed as she thumbed through her notes. He was grateful and disturbed that she seemed so calm.

“Harry?” Nev whispered, gesturing to the book. Harry shoved it to him, still unable to find words for the disgust, relief, hatred that burned through his veins.

Him. It was him. It wasn’t Neville. Which was a good thing and awful thing and Harry felt disgusted with himself that, for even the barest moment, he had wished it on his dearest cousin and friend.

Neville sighed heavily — Harry knew it had to be at least partially relief. He pushed the book back to Harry. “Are we sure this Santiago got it right? Could there be something wrong with the rune sequence?”

“Mila Santiago was a _renowned_ Seer,” Hermione muttered softly, her eyes still focused on her notes. “I’m sure there are several books on her runic sequence alone that we can look at but…” Hermione made a note of the book title and page in her notes but she looked up to Harry. She smiled slightly, holding his hand in hers for a brief moment. “Keep reading, Harry, I’m more interested to know what…or who…they decide _Fate_ is.”

Harry frowned at her. “Why?”

“Motivations,” she said before turning back to her book. Harry caught Neville’s confused gaze. He shrugged and turned back to his own book.

Harry sighed quietly, readjusting the book in front of him.

_There have been many debates as to whether this part of the sequence could be changed, or if indeed it could even be determined as to which part of the sequence it is written. Or, as this author and many other magi-philosophers believe, it is not a part of the sequence but rather Fate, the Moirai, guarding their sacred magic._

_Today, prophecies are collected into orbs that emit light. The lights emitted from these orbs have been researched extensively across various countries. A soft blue light indicates a prophecy unfulfilled and an orb that does not emit light either indicates a completed prophecy or a prophecy that no longer can be fulfilled. The only other color to have been recorded is a dark red; this has indicated a prophecy cheated._

_This has happened very rarely, with only a few recorded incidents since the collection of prophecies. However, in each case in which a prophetic orb has emitted a dark red light, the subjects of the prophecy had been made aware of the prophecy and each sought to either subvert or avoid it. The consequences of such, however, are unclear._

_In one such incident, the wix, whose identity has been kept secret, was prophesied to be the father of the next Dark Lord. After having lived through Grindelwald’s rein, the man immediately sterilized himself to avoid fathering such a wix. The orb turned red at the moment of sterilization but the wix himself suffered no known consequences._

_It is unclear as to how or why the orb turned red rather than faded. However, it does suggest a difference between a prophecy that cannot be fulfilled versus a prophecy that must be fulfilled._

_The wix who cheated his prophecy was from England, a country which fought a vicious civil war in the seventies lead by their own Dark Lord. Was this Fate punishing the wix or Fate subverting their own prophecy to fulfill its needs?_

_This brings us back to who, exactly, is Fate. Is it Eunomia, who requires order above all else and fulfilled the prophecy subverted? Or is it Thanatos, who was denied her due and exacted death on those responsible?_

_As mere mortals, how are we to know?_

Harry slammed the book closed. Hermione and Neville jumped.

“Stupid fucking—”

“Harry!” Hermione whisper-yelled.

Madam Pince glared at them from her desk but hadn’t yet moved to kick them out.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled. But his hands still shook with anger. “I need a break.” He stood abruptly. Neville and Hermione made moves to join him but he shook his head. “No, I’ll be back. I’m just…going to take a walk.”

Hermione shared a glance with Neville. “Do you want one of us to join you?”

Harry shook his head again. He leaned down and kissed Hermione on her forehead. “No, you stay with Neville. I’ll be back soon.”

Harry didn’t wait for them to agree but turned and walked briskly out of the library. He needed space. He needed…

He needed this stupid prophecy to not exist. He hadn’t…He never really thought of Riddle. And it was clear that his family had never _stopped_ thinking of Riddle and…

He felt like someone had hit a bludger to his face and he was still spinning to try to get away.

Harry twisted through the hallways, avoiding most students with secret passageways until he was at the Owlery. Hedwig hadn’t been in his room last night so he hoped she was here. As he looked up, he saw her immediately sweep down. She landed on his shoulder and nibbled on his ear affectionately.

“Hey, girl.” Harry rubbed her head gently.

He moved over to a secluded open window, hoping no one would be up here this early, but he still didn’t dare talk aloud. Secrets. Privacy. Ears everywhere. The words rang through his mind in the gentle exacting tones of Aunt Narcissa.

He felt prepared and at a loss all at once.

Every lesson with Grandpa, with Cousin Cygnus, with Uncle Lucius, with Great Aunt Cassie, and Great Uncle Alphard, and every other family member. It was an education to be envied. An education that prepared him for this…even when they didn’t know for sure that _this_ was what he needed to be prepared for.

He couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse. If his family’s paranoia comforted or disgusted him.

He remembered the nightmares he had as a child — of the flashing green light he knew to have been the Killing Curse directed at his mom and then at him. He remembered moments of Dad’s arms around him before he was taken away by Hagrid and a flying motorbike to his Aunt Petunia’s house. He didn’t remember much there at all but he was grateful for that.

He remembered being scared of being taken away from his family and Grandpa showing him the intricate wards around Ravenswood. He remembered never feeling afraid again. Because he knew his family would take care of him.

And now…it was all on him.

He shook his head. It wasn’t just on him. He knew that. He _knew_ it wasn’t just on him. He would _help_ his family take care of it. His family would help him. Like they did with everything.

And even if they couldn’t find a way around the prophecy, even if Harry had to face Riddle on his own, he knew he wouldn’t actually be alone. It wouldn’t just be him. His family would be there too.

They would do this together.

Harry took a few slow, deep breaths. He nuzzled Hedwig briefly. “Do you want to fly this afternoon?”

She barked once, nibbled his ear again, and took off out the window. He watched her fly over to Ravenclaw tower and knew she’d wait for him there until he was ready to fly.

When he reached the library, he felt much better. Draco, Fay, Blaise, and Isobel were also at the table. Fay smiled hesitantly while Draco glared at him. He glared back.

“Sit,” Draco ordered.

Harry opened his mouth as he sat down but Hermione grabbed his hand and held it in two of hers on her lap. He frowned — she was shaking.

“What’s wrong?” He asked instead, turning to her.

Draco snapped his fingers near his face. “No more walking off on your own,” he growled. “Everyone travels in pairs.”

“Draco!” Harry whisper-yelled. His mouth nearly fell open in shock but as he glanced around, everyone else looked determined…and scared. “What happened?”

Draco rolled his eyes and pointed at Hermione. “We still don’t know who potioned Hermione. We don’t know what they wanted or if she was even their main target. We don’t—” Draco took a deep breath, his chest heaving as if he had run from the quidditch pitch.

“We stick together,” Neville said, his mouth pressed in a firm line, “That’s the bottom line. Okay?” He stared pointedly at Harry.

Harry nodded stiffly. “We stick together.”

///

The door to his office opened slowly and Arcturus jerked upright — he didn’t want to seem overwhelmed — he needed to be strong for the family.

Melania walked in, a sad, knowing smile on her face and Arcturus sighed. He couldn’t hide his emotions from his wife. She closed the door behind her and went to sit on his lap. He tucked her in close.

“Almost seventy-five years, love,” Melania said, her face tucked into his neck, “Do you really think you can hide anything from me?”

Arcturus chuckled. “Yule will be exceptionally bright this year.” He brought her hand to his lips. “And I haven’t been able to hide anything from you since our own betrothal.”

She laughed softly. “That’s true.” She looked up, cupping his face in one hand. “You’ve been head of this family for so long, my dear, that I think you’ve forgotten something rather important.”

He frowned. What did he forget?

“You are but one branch in this strong tree. The Black family roots are deep and enduring. We’ve cut the diseased branches — we will survive this fight.”

He sighed heavily. That was true. The House of Black would survive. They had survived the first war with some heavy losses but they were reborn from the ashes. If it came to a second war, their family was stronger than ever. In part thanks to Sirius and Rose, and the four children they were blessed with it. Four children whose oldest brother was the Head of the House of Gryffindor, who was marrying the Head of the House of Ravenclaw. Yes, the future of the House of Black was secure.

But he didn’t want to lose anyone else. He didn’t want to suffer any losses in this second war. And…was it still unrealistic? He didn’t know. And it scared him.

Riddle had yet to make a move beyond, possibly, attacking him and Lucius. And then they had, potentially, an unknown enemy.

He squeezed his wife a little tighter. “But will all of us survive this war?”

She cuddled back into him. “We must pray so, but also know that as long as the little ones live, all will be well.”

Arcturus nodded. “I’m going to call the goblins to make sure the house is secure.”

Melania chuckled. “Whatever makes you feel better.” She straightened up again. “Now, let’s get down to business. Because I want to see Harry married in two years without having to worry about Riddle. Don’t you?”

“Brilliant per usual, wife.”

They sat plotting well into the night. They knew many things depended on the moves of their enemies but their first objective, after finding the remaining horcrux of course, was to figure out who their other enemies were.

The answer, well to one of their questions, came the next morning.

Narcissa and Lucius sat at their breakfast table, faces void of any color. Lucius looked particularly ill.

Arcturus was the first to enter but they didn’t say anything until he sat down. He was grateful, for he was sure his knees would have buckled at the news.

“He’s back,” Lucius said through thin lips. He pulled back the sleeve of his left arm, where _that_ mark still lay. It was no longer a faded gray but an ugly purple, inflamed, and…painful looking. Arcturus looked at Lucius alarmed. Lucius nodded. “He called for all his Death Eaters last night. I didn’t go, obviously — I don’t think even I could convince him of being a double agent at this point. And he’s—” Lucius’s lips twitched. “He’s been torturing me with it since.”

Narcissa and he hissed.

“Tilly,” Arcturus called. She popped next to him. “Please bring Cassiopeia and Alphard here immediately.” He turned back to Lucius. “We’re removing that. Today.”

Narcissa gasped. “Have we figured out how to safely do that?”

He stared at Lucius. The short answer was no, and they both knew that. But this was now a matter of urgency. Lucius would be _tortured_ with the mark every day. That was a weak point, a chink in the armor they couldn’t afford. Lucius would have to be homebound, maybe bed bound if it got that bad, until they could kill the fucker. And Lucius was an excellent dueler — they couldn’t afford to lose a fighter like him in war.

“Let’s do it,” Lucius said by way of agreement. He knew what was at stake.

Narcissa frowned but refrained from glaring at them both. “The children?” She asked.

“We’ll tell Hermione to raise the war wards at Hogwarts and cancel Hogsmeade trips,” Arcturus said, “Otherwise, they are at the second safest place on the planet.”

Narcissa nodded but Arcturus knew that she would still prefer them to be at Ravenswood.

Sirius and Rose walked into the breakfast parlour at that point with Leo hitched onto Sirius’s back. Sirius took one look at Lucius’s arm before turning back around. Rose paled dramatically before following, calling their young ones for breakfast in bed.

Cassiopeia and Alphard had been studying Lucius’s mark for several minutes by the time Sirius returned alone.

“Grandmother and Rose are distracting the kids with breakfast in bed,” he said. He glared at Lucius’s arm.

“I think ritual cleansing is our best bet,” Cassiopeia announced, ignoring Sirius’s arrival.

Alphard nodded. “I think between the four of us, we should provide proper balance but…” Alphard glared at the ceiling before sighing heavily. “There’s someone I know, who could probably help better than any of us.”

“Who?” Narcissa asked.

“What can they do that we can’t?” Cassiopeia glared at Alphard.

“She’s an expert in magical ethics and a practicing Druid. She—she can confirm the magical ties that we can’t.” Alphard waved his wand and enlarged a series of diagnostic runes above Lucius’s arm. “Like that rune here, in connection with these runes. We haven’t been able to figure out if it’s a magical contract and…”

“And what type of magic powers it.” Cassiopeia finished, now glaring at the runes as if pure intimidation would convince them to make sense to her.

“Who is it?” Arcturus asked. And could they trust them with this information? Could they ask for an unbreakable vow?

“Aneira Morgan,” Alphard said finally, and Sirius fought back sniggers. Alphard and Arcturus glared at him. “She’s the magical ethics professor at Hogwarts.”

Sirius stifled a grin but didn’t say anything. That alone told Arcturus many things about Professor Morgan. He honestly wanted to meet the wix that turned Alphard inside-out but…

“Can you trust her? With this?” Narcissa said, shooting Sirius a glare.

“I…I can’t make that call,” Alphard’s face was turned to the ceiling but it only highlighted the flush creeping up his neck. 

Cassiopeia huffed. “Fine. Sirius, can you be an adult for a minute and join me at Hogwarts to meet this witch.” Cassiopeia waved her wand, copying sections of the diagnostic. “Let’s see what she makes of this and then we can make the call.

Sirius nodded. “Let me mirror call Remus—I’ll see if he knows her schedule.”

“Right,” Arcturus said, “In the meantime, I’ll call the Goblin Horde and update them that…”

“The war has begun,” Lucius said.

Arcturus nodded, frowning. The war never ended, in his opinion — they just had nearly sixteen years of a stalemate. But now, he supposed, the war had begun in earnest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I play fast and loose with mythology here (In fact, most of what I wrote would not be considered accurate so...let that go please.)


	11. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Broken promises and renewed promises.

Sirius sent Tilly ahead first, to find Headmistress McGonagall and open her floo for temporary access. Less than ten minutes later, Sirius and Cassiopeia flooed into the Headmistress’s office.

Sirius’s eyes automatically went to the still silent portrait of Albus Dumbledore. The portrait had fallen silent the moment it learned of his death and refused to speak a word since. Most of the time, according to Minerva, he badly feigned sleep.

He wasn’t faking now though — his eyes were narrowed and focused on Sirius as he walked through the office. Sirius offered him a truly arrogant smirk. Dumbledore glared back.

Cassiopeia sniffed, eyeing Dumbledore with equal disdain. “Perhaps we should take this meeting elsewhere?”

Minerva snorted. “Please, I warded the portraits the moment I had access to this office. They can’t share any information they hear with anyone.”

Cassie eyed Minerva with approval. “Good. We need to speak to Professor Morgan.”

Minerva studied Cassie before turning to Sirius. She raised a single eyebrow. The eyebrow of doom, as Sirius had known it from his school days.

“We also need to speak to Hermione,” Cassie continued as she settled into an armchair near the fire. She glared at Dumbledore’s portrait again. “We should just set it on fire.”

Sirius snorted. “Now where’s the punishment in that?” He settled next to her as Minerva sent off two elves to retrieve Professor Morgan and Hermione. “At least now he’s forced to watch us make our own paths, without a puppet master.”

He leaned back and continued to smirk at the portrait until Minerva rapped him sharply over the head.

“Well, if you’re quite finished having a staring contest with a portrait,” Minerva stated, her accent growing sharper, “Perhaps ye liked to tell me why the two of you are here this morning.”

Cassie sent one more glare to Dumbledore before focusing on Minerva, who had settled into the wingback chair opposite them. A tea set with scones and jam appeared on the table.

“We may need Professor Morgan’s help and…” Cassie pursed her lips before glancing at Sirius. He nodded quickly. “We have reason to believe—”

“He’s back,” Sirius said shortly.

Minerva’s cup rattled violently on her saucer.

“ _Him_?” She asked archly.

Sirius nodded.

“ _How_?” Minerva waved her hands wildly. “I thought…I thought you had taken care of that.”

Sirius frowned at her. “We were…we are…but you know, it’s not exactly easy to scry for pieces of one soul.”

Minerva grumbled under her breath. “Verra well. What are you planning? What’s next?”

“Right now?” Sirius leaned into the couch. “Securing the school and helping Lucius.”

Minerva’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “What’s wrong with Lord Malfoy?”

A knock interrupted Sirius before he could answer.

“Come in,” Minerva called and Sirius got his first good look at the only woman that drove his cousin mad.

Aneira Morgan was gorgeous — something he had already known from his son and young cousins. She had swept her dark blonde hair into an untidy bun that probably put Minerva into fits but it softened her face and drew attention to her eyes. He had heard a lot — too much, really — about the passion his uncle saw in those dark green eyes. But Sirius only saw a shrewdness. Typical of his uncle to be obsessed with a woman who could see through his usual tricks.

She nodded shortly to him and Cassie before turning her attention to Minerva.

“How can I help you, Headmistress?” She didn’t sit down.

Minerva turned to them, a demanding look on her face.

Cassie smirked at her before swishing her wand and displaying a section of the ward scheme over the tea set.

“A recent project of great importance has stalled and my nephew, who had been helping me, suggested that Professor Morgan may be of some assistance.”

Professor Morgan glared, first at the schematic and then at Cassie and Sirius. Sirius fought the bemused smile itching across his cheeks. He knew that look from the many mistakes he had made with Rose. There was apparently something universal in the frustrated lovers of the Blacks. Or maybe Rose was right and the Blacks really did have a type — a little bit crazy.

He could tell he did not successfully hide his grin as the glare from Morgan intensified. She narrowed her eyes from him to the schematic and studied it carefully for a moment. A small smirk twisted her lips.

“May I, Headmistress?” She gestured to the tea. When Minerva nodded, she settled into another wingback, waved her wand, and used magic to pour her tea and carry it over to her. She took a delicate sip and said in a steely voice, “I’ll need to see the whole ward schematic but I have a good idea of what you need to do to undo it if that’s what you wish.”

Sirius nodded, standing up from his seat. “Great! Why—”

“But I won’t help until that piece of shit you call uncle gets his arse over here.”

Sirius fell back down. “Right.”

Cassie snorted. “May I call an elf, Headmistress?”

Minerva coughed back a laugh. “Of course.”

“Tilly!” Cassie called.

Tilly appeared next to her. “Yes?”

“Tell Alphard to get his arse through the floo.” She eyed Professor Morgan for a second before adding, “And Lucius if he can.” Tilly nodded before disappearing with a pop.

Professor Morgan raised a golden eyebrow. “Did someone curse Lord Malfoy? How? This—” She waved a hand to the luminescent schematic, “—there are elements of contractual obligation within this. How…who, who could have—”

“Tell me,” Cassie interrupted, “How long has it been since you’ve seen Alphard?”

Professor Morgan gulped. “Nearly a decade.”

“You didn’t tell me you had known him when I interviewed you for the position here,” Cassie said.

Professor Morgan frowned. “Was I supposed to?”

“He recommended you.”

“You never mentioned that,” Professor Morgan accused.

Cassie smirked. “Was I supposed to?”

The floo burst into bright green flames, saving Professor Morgan from having to answer. Alphard walked in, his face rather pale, but nothing in comparison to Lucius. Minerva gasped as Sirius jumped up and helped Alphard carry Lucius to a chair. Lucius grunted his thanks.

A troubled frown played on Professor Morgan’s lips, clearly torn between scolding Alphard and haranguing him with questions.

Cassie saved her the trouble by waving her wand and calling the full diagnostic from Lucius’s arm. The Dark Mark had turned into a furious and ropey purple.

“Is that—” The question faded from Professor Morgan’s lips as Alphard nodded sharply.

“He’s back,” Alphard whispered firmly, glancing to Minerva before settling his gaze on Aneira. He gulped before gesturing to several runes in the luminescent schematic. “Riddle—Voldemort as you know him—he branded Lucius as a teenager. We’ve been trying to remove it but…”

“You’ve gotten stuck at those runes.” Aneira frowned, first at the mark and then Alphard. She moved to Lucius's other side, studying both his mark and then the diagnostic. “It…it bears resemblance to an ancient feudal contract, corrupted of course, but the same base warding scheme.” She jabbed the scheme with the tip of her wand. “There, and there. That’s the base wards for a relationship between a lord and…” She grimaced as she glanced to Lucius. “A, um, peasant.”

Lucius hissed in anger but otherwise did not say anything. Sirius was sure he was holding back a groan of pain instead.

“Can we break the contract?” Cassie asked impatiently.

Professor Morgan turned back to the diagnostic. She poked at several runes and enlarged various sections. After a minute of tense silence, she sighed. With her wand she pointed to two runes — unlike the others that were shining vividly, these were dull and jagged in comparison as if they were breaking apart from within. “There. He…he, well, booby-trapped several of the necessary runes for contract dissolution but these…well he clearly didn’t care about those consequences.”

“What are they for?” Sirius asked.

“Standard contract dissolution if the lord caused purposeful pain and harm to the servant.” She shrugged. “He put enough curses in this to cause pain that he’s wrongly assuming that he could kill through this mark before the contract would be broken.”

“He’s wrong?” Cassie asked.

“I mean…maybe? But there’s no need to find out.” She turned to Lucius. “Do you have your wand?”

Lucius glared at her — the light sheen of sweat across his brow greatly diminished its effect. He fumbled a bit, using one hand to draw his wand from his walking stick.

Professor Morgan frowned. “Are you skilled enough to use your wand with your non-dominant hand?”

“Of course,” Lucius bit out.

She pursed her lips but instead turned her attention back to the ward scheme. “Right. Well, with your wand directed at those two runes, push all your pain through.”

“What?” Lucius asked.

“Genius!” Cassie shouted instead. “Break the runes by demonstrating how the contract has been broken.” She shrugged. “With any luck, the bastard should feel the pain he’s put you through.”

Lucius dropped his hand suddenly and turned to Sirius, eyebrows raised.

Sirius gulped. “Right. Retribution.” Lucius nodded sharply. “Where’s Hermione?”

Minerva glanced at her watch. “Class has just finished so she should be here within the next five to ten minutes.”

He turned to Cassie. “Go back to Ravenswood and help Grandfather alert the family.”

Cassie glared at him. She caught Professor Morgan’s eye and said rather seriously, “I don’t care what happens between you and my nephew. You and I will be having a discussion on these runes.”

Professor Morgan nodded, a bewildered look in her eye. “Of—of course.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. Trust Cassie to care more about experimental wards than impending war.

“How long do you think it’ll take Hermione to fully lock down Hogwarts?” Alphard asked.

“It’s very nearly locked down tight to begin with,” Minerva said, “I doubt it’ll take more than a minute or two.”

“Do the wards cover the grounds too?” Professor Morgan asked. “Should we gather the children inside?”

Sirius shook his head. “The wards encompass most of the Forbidden Forest and the Great Lake, half of the mountainside and stops just shy of Hogsmeade. They’re honestly the most encompassing wards in all of Britain…maybe the world for all we know.”

“The Ravenclaws weren’t messing around,” Alphard muttered.

There was a firm knock on the door only minutes after Cassie left through the floo. Sirius sensed his son’s magic with a grimace — he should have known Harry would accompany Hermione. He held up his hand, stopping Minerva from allowing them entrance.

“Do you want them to see you like this?” Sirius asked softly to Lucius.

He grimaced. “No, but we can’t protect them from everything.”

Sirius frowned but nodded to Minerva.

“Enter!” She called.

Hermione and Harry entered smiling but their smiles quickly vanished when they saw Lucius.

“Uncle Lucius!” Harry rushed forward, mindless to all.

“I am fine,” Lucius said, the strain in his voice betraying his words. “As you will see soon enough.”

“Should I call Draco?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” Sirius said, turning Harry and Hermione around. “We need to go to the wardroom.” Sirius turned back to Lucius. “When Hermione’s done, we’ll contact Draco via the mirror.”

Alphard and Lucius nodded amongst the bewildered looks of Minerva and Professor Morgan.

“Mirrors?” Minerva muttered archly.

But Sirius was already herding Harry and Hermione out the door.

Harry pulled out his mirror and Sirius ignored the frantic conversation that ensued, knowing that Harry was doing his best to calm his cousin.

“He’s back, isn’t he?” Hermione whispered, her hand clenching into a fist.

Sirius nodded.

“We’re locking down the wards for no entry whatsoever.”

Sirius nodded again.

“You know that’s going to include the rest of the Black family. Anyone who is not currently on the grounds will need my permission via the wards to enter.”

“I know, Hermione.”

She frowned. “You should have brought Carina, Leo, and the twins then.”

Sirius laughed softly. “Ravenswood is under a similar lockdown Hermione, I assure you.”

She nodded, still frowning. “Right. What are we going to say to the students? Or the rest of the world? Everyone believes him dead…and it’s not like the family has been very open about…you know.”

Sirius grimaced. It was the downside of working behind the scenes. They couldn’t raise the alarm at the Ministry — no one would believe them. And the proof they had…or used to have…well they didn’t want that open for public consumption.

“We’re talking to the Horde about that,” Sirius said finally, “And you don’t need to tell the students anything…they won’t even know the difference.”

Hermione harrumphed. “Except no more Hogsmeade visits.”

“Minerva will handle that.” Although to be fair, Sirius had no idea how she was going to justify that. Maybe poor test scores? Whatever. It wasn’t his problem, not really. He needed to focus on his children…on Harry and that damn prophecy. On the missing horcrux.

On Riddle.

What would his next move be?

Sirius didn’t know and that scared him.

///

Arcturus called a Gathering.

His magic was anxious in a way it hadn’t been since the first war. He squeezed Melania’s hand as they settled into their seats.

Everyone gathered quickly even though it was their third Gathering in a week.

“Everyone still alive?” Cygnus asked roughly.

“Father!” Andromeda scolded but turned anxious eyes to him.

Arcturus nodded, his lips in a grim line. “Everyone’s alive but Lucius is hurt.”

“Hurt?” Andromeda looked around for Narcissa. “What happened? Is he going to be okay?”

“We’re working on—”

“He’ll be fine,” Cassie rolled into the room. “He’s getting rid of that bastard’s mark as we speak.”

Melania sighed in relief and Arcturus felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. Narcissa slumped in her chair and Andromeda wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders.

“That bastard’s mark hurt Lucius?” Cygnus asked with a frown, his gaze flickered between Arcturus and Narcissa. “Does that mean…?”

Arcturus nodded as Callidora settled into her seat. “He’s back.” The entire room collectively hissed like the vicious and furious snakes they were. “Our enemy is on the move. It’s time to review lesson thirteen.” He paused, frowning. “Again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say...so much has happened I don't even know where to start. 
> 
> First, if you don't want to know anything about my personal life and/or don't want to read my personal fiction: that's okay, but you're going to want to skip to the bottom of this AN. 
> 
> I'm 95% done with my book! And I've posted the first chapter of it to Vocal.media! I would really appreciate it if any of you read it and gave me the same supportive/inquisitive/critical comments that you give to my fanfiction. If you like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and a non-binary main character, I think you'll like this! (it's a bit more adult, like 7th book HP - i.e. people are killed but its not gory).
> 
> This is where if you really don't want to know anything about me, stop reading, because I'm about to tell you my name and to follow me on Instagram for the link, so...anonymity shattered! My IG is jess.lauro and my link to vocal.media (under the same name) is there! I don't know if you can comment on the story via vocal.media but you are welcome to DM your thoughts on any of my stories (including these). (I will block people who are senselessly cruel or crude on IG. That being said, there is a huge difference between "You suck and I hate you" vs "I don't like Orion (the main character) or the flow of the story.") 
> 
> .  
> .  
> .
> 
> UNRELATED TO PERSONAL THINGS: I've been asked for a complete set of rules/lessons of the House of Black.
> 
> These are the ones that have been mentioned so far in the story:
> 
> 1: family first  
> 2: no mercy to those who harm the house of black  
> 3: patience—house of black stands forever  
> 4: knowledge —house of black gathers all knowledge  
> 6: skill— If you cannot, someone else can  
> 13: destroy all black magic/threats to Hecate
> 
> I have more but to be honest, they might change as the story progresses, so I'm not going to post the whole list until I'm finished.
> 
> Thank you everyone for your patience and your love for this story ❤️


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